


Free From the Life that You Knew

by for1dollarnameawoman



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: "and then one day i'll die.", "i'll hold all my feelings right here", 1930s, Bittersweet, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Family, Grief, Happy Ending, M/M, Minor Character Death, Period-Typical Homophobia, but then happy, in the words of john mulaney:, time to get sad folks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:21:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22277779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for1dollarnameawoman/pseuds/for1dollarnameawoman
Summary: Following a family tragedy, Richard begins to rethink what he wants to do with his life, and tries to bring Thomas along with him.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis
Comments: 122
Kudos: 186





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone cares, the title is from the song "Magic" by Ben Folds Five.
> 
> idk how to make a hyperlink in the notes, here's the song if you want lol
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WXGXpzIjs5Q

The telephone in the butler’s pantry rang right as Mrs. Patmore and Thomas were finishing the trays to go upstairs for the dinner beginning in a few minutes.

“Oh, how convenient!” Mrs. Patmore exasperated, placing a serving dish in front of her in a huff. “Who would be needing to make a call  _ here _ ? At this hour!?”

“Probably no one  _ needing _ anything,” Thomas replied, taking one of the trays in front of her, starting to make his way to the servery. “Leave it. Whoever it is’ll call back later if it’s important.”   
  
Mrs. Patmore quirked an eyebrow at him as he left the kitchen, but didn’t push it. Though he would never admit it, the way Thomas had grown into his position as butler would do Mr. Carson proud. Nothing going overlooked, even as much as what was probably a wrong connection through the telephone.   
  
However, they were indeed running behind on dinner this evening. If he wasn’t going to bother with it, neither would she if just to keep the folks upstairs pleased.   
  
The telephone gave up after a few more rings, leaving Mrs. Patmore and the kitchen staff to finish the meal prep without distraction.   
  
That is, until Thomas returned again with the now singular footman of the house, Eugene, to make a final run before announcing dinner was served. The phone was blaring again from down the hall, as to show it was not to be ignored.   
  
Mrs. Patmore sighed. “Looks like it’s important after all.”   
  
Thomas rolled his eyes as he made to shut up whoever was making the call and causing such an untimely racket.   
  
“Or just rotten luck,” he replied in his haste.   
  
He snagged the receiver from its hook when he reached the pantry door, and answered quickly.   
  
“Downton Abbey, this is Mr. Barrow the butler spea-” he started before the other end cut him off.   
  
“Thomas, it’s me.”   
  
“Richard?”   
  
Thomas peered around the door to make sure no one was in the hallway to eavesdrop before closing off the entryway.   
  
They never spoke over the phone this early in the day, for quite a few obvious reasons. For one, even though the phone was stationed in his office, it’s hardly private. Thin walls and younger staff always somehow nearby searching for gossip aren’t quite the ideal conditions to speak in when doing so could get them in all sorts of predicaments.   
  
And for another, like now, there was hardly any time to spare for either of them, considering their careers.   
  


Which is why it struck Thomas as odd, and a bit concerning, as to why Richard would phone now at all.   
  
“Do - do you have a moment?” Richard asked from the other end, his voice not exactly quiet, but sounding haggard.   
  
“Well, actually,” Thomas started. “I’ve dinner to serve here in a few - well - now as it happ-”   
  
“No, no ‘course,” Richard interrupted again. “God, I… I suppose I didn’t look at the time ‘til just now. Guess you would be working.”   
  
It sounded as if he tried for a short laugh, but instead it came out more as an anxious huff.   
  
Thomas paused, trying to puzzle together exactly what was happening.   
  
“Could ask you why you’re not,” he replied, biting his cheek after it came out with a little bit more of a bite than it should have.   
  
He rather did need to be upstairs though.   
  
“I’m... in York at the moment,” Richard replied, then quickly adding. “I’m sorry I should’ve known, I’ll let you get back to -”   
  
“York?” Thomas asked, his turn now to butt in. “How… why are you up north?”   
  
Now, this was getting strange. According to his calendar, Richard didn’t have another free day for a few months yet.   
  
If things changed he certainly would have let him know, or looked in at Downton, as he had actually been known to do as a surprise a small handful of times in the past.   
  
“I’m… at my mother’s.” Richard said. “There’s been.... that is she’s not -”   
  
The door to the pantry flew open to what appeared to be a cook becoming increasingly more irate by the minute on the other side.   
  
“Mr. Barrow!” Mrs. Patmore scolded. “Unless you want the rest of us to be dining past midnight, I suggest getting a move on!”   
  
“In just a moment,” Thomas shot back.   
  
Mrs. Patmore gave a stern look back. “Whoever’s on that line, I should let them know you’ve got a job to do, and it doesn’t involve them! Tell them how it is, and to call back tomorrow! Or better yet, leave it be!”   
  
She pulled the door shut with whatever just under a slam might be.   
  
“Don’t worry about me just now,” Richard said in a rush, clearly hearing what transpired on Thomas’ end. “You’ve got to go.”   
  
“Should I be worrying about you?” Thomas asked, bringing his volume back down.   
  
A pregnant pause held the other end of the line. So quiet, Thomas thought Richard might’ve already hung up.   
  
“Richard?” he asked again.   
  
“Am I able to call you later tonight?” Richard finally replied, ignoring the original question.   
  
“Sure. Of course. I’ll probably be up late as is.”   
  
“Right…” Richard started, as if he were going to say more.   
  
But all he says is, “You’d better get on then.”   
  
The ambiguity of the situation leaves Thomas not knowing what the right thing to say is.   
  
Richard was clearly in a bad way about something. Something with his mother it seemed.   
  
But he really couldn’t hold up anyone else any longer. As much as his work life had improved in the last five years since his promotion, it was still damning at times.   
  
“We’ll talk this evening,” Thomas managed.   
  
The line was quiet again from Richard’s end, so Thomas added even quieter, “I love you.”   
  
A pause, then a voice that somehow sounded more tired still since the beginning of the call replied.   
  
“I love you, too.”   
  
And then the dial tone.   
  
Thomas just looked at the receiver, slowly hanging it back up, a bit sad to have signed off without a real goodbye.   
  
Only made him worry more, regardless of what Richard said, as he made his way back to the kitchen.   
  
“What in God’s green Earth was all that about?” Mrs. Patmore said, as if the whole ordeal was his fault.

  
Thomas let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in.   
  
“Not quite sure myself.”   
  
Mrs. Patmore looked him up and down, and perhaps getting the same sense of worry, decided to drop it.   
  
“Eugene is already up,” she said, her temper knocked down a couple notches. “You’d better follow behind and tell them we’re ready.”   
  
With a nod, he was up the stairs, putting a neutral face back on before reaching the main floor.

* * *

  
Thomas retreated back to his pantry shortly after the servant’s dinner, which was as Mrs. Patmore predicted, served late.   
  
It wasn’t entirely his fault with the phone call. The number of staff downstairs seemed to only dwindle as of late, making everything go a bit slower.    
  
Daisy and Andy had stayed on longer than expected after they got married, but about a year after the fact, they found out they were expecting and decided it was time to make the farm their full-time priority.   
  
After they handed in their notices, Lord Grantham had told Thomas there was no need to make an ad for their replacements.   
  
Anna and Bates were both around, though no longer full time. They split their time between the abbey and their B & B over in Thirsk, mainly only coming in for special occasions. Lady Mary and Lord Grantham found it easier than expected to fend for themselves most days.   
  
Baxter (now technically Mrs. Molesley even though Thomas couldn’t quite bring himself to say it) had been promoted to housekeeper after Mrs. Hughes finally retired, and she still tended to Lady Gratham regularly.   
  
Mrs. Hughes had said she was retiring to finally kick her feet up, but the remaining staff knew it was really to care for Mr. Carson, whose palsy had only gotten worse as time went on. She still looked in from time to time, but when she did, she actually looked more tired than when she was working. Never failed to be kind as ever, though.   
  
Honestly, and Thomas never thought he’s say it in a million years, but Mr. Molesley was the only thing that held them together at times. He kept up his classes at the local school full time now, but he could always come in during the evening if need be.   
  
Thomas admitted it was sad to see how much the house had changed downstairs, but now the quiet was a welcome reprieve as he waited on Richard’s call.   
  
As he served dinner and later sent everyone else off to bed, he kicked himself for not getting the number Richard was calling from. Would’ve put his mind at ease sooner.   
  
Or not.    
  
He still didn’t quite understand what warranted the unexpected call in the middle of the work day.   
  
He knows he likely wouldn’t get time off on short notice unless it was something of an emergency. He could only imagine Buckingham Palace would be the same if not stricter somehow.

  
Sure enough, he was knocked out of his reprieve by the trill of the telephone shortly after the clock struck eleven.   
  
Thomas picked it up on the first ring, answering with the same rehearsed spiel, just in case.   
  
“Downton Abbey, this is Mr. Barrow the butler speaking.”   
  
Immediately an exasperated sigh on the other end. “Glad you’re still up.”   
  
“Told you I would be, didn’t I?” Thomas said, trying to still keep it light, as if it may have a sway on the tone from earlier in the evening.   
  
“Still,” Richard said, sounding just as tired as he did before. “Nice to hear your voice. After...everything today.”   
  
Seems like nothing was better.    
  
“What was… everything?” Thomas questioned, still at a loss as to what Richard needed.    
  
“I… I guess now that I’m saying it aloud I don’t quite know how to start.”   
  
As much as Thomas held his own feelings to his chest, he had learned over time his partner could be just as closed off. It’s taken a lot of prodding to get Richard to share anything when he was feeling blue.   
  
Could hardly blame the man, though. It’s how they’d trained themselves to be until they got together. No one was allowed to see the trials and tribulations of men like them, minus a few special cases where lifelong trust was a factor.   
  
“Why not start at the beginning then?” Thomas tried.   
  
Thomas could hear Richard let out a long breath.    
  
“Well,” he began. “I - I told you I’m at my mother’s. Or that is, rather, I was called up.”   
  
Thomas waited, letting the other man find his bearings.   
  
“Her neighbor next door… she came by to look in on her this morning I guess. Went to return a book or something like that,” he continued. “She found her… just not herself I suppose. Couldn’t speak right. Said she wasn’t quite looking her in the eye. Tried to get her up, but she couldn’t walk.”   
  
“Oh Christ,” said Thomas. Probably not the best response, or the most sympathetic, but he didn’t know what else to say.   
  
Richard didn’t seem to notice, or at least mind the semi-crude language.   
  
“Naturally, she called the doctor to come over, then she… found my contact information in Mum’s diary. All she said was the doctor didn’t have good news. So I got off right away, next train up. Told Miller it was a family matter… I’m surprised he let me go and didn’t ask much more.”   
  
“Can I ask what the doctor’s saying?” Thomas asked.   
  
“He… he called it a stroke. Hemorrhaging,” Richard supplied. “It’s - well I don’t understand it all myself. But in short, it’s her brain… bleeding from something that burst open.”   
  
Although it sounds all in all a lot different from anything he saw during his time in the medical corps during the war, he knew enough to hear brain and bleeding to assume it probably wasn’t a positive prognosis.   
  
“I…I’m so sorry Richard,” Thomas said, trying to find the right words himself. “Will she - I mean -”   
  
“No,” Richard answered, beating him to the question. “No, it doesn’t look good.”   
  
Richard paused again, sounding like he was trying to steady his breathing.    
  
Then, shakily, “Christ, I… I don’t know what to do, Thomas.”   
  
Thomas had to steady himself as well.   
  
Although he never met the woman, he’d heard plenty of her. Richard spoke of her highly, always with fondness in his voice whether he was talking about the short visits he would try to make time for whenever he could also see Thomas or memories from childhood.   
  
It had always been the two of them. Richard’s father had passed when he was just a toddler of some other sickness. Richard was so young he couldn’t remember.    
  
His mother never remarried, thus never had more children. After the death of his father, she joined service herself, becoming a lady’s maid. Later on, she left to become a seamstress, freelancing her work around York. She was rather good too, earning enough to continue to work from home to better raise her son.   
  
From all Thomas had heard of her, she was a hardworking, yet extremely loving mother. Richard told him once the only two people in the world who knew everything about him were her and Thomas.   
  
Well, she knew all things but one.   
  
From how Richard lit up at the mention of her on any other day, Thomas found himself feeling upset as well. There wasn’t a lot of light in either of their lives, but Thomas was happy to know he found it in the one family member he has.   
  
“What do you need from me?” Thomas asked gently. He felt like there had to be something.   
  
“I wish you could do something,” Richard supplied, his voice still sounding a bit unstable. “But… it looks like there’s nothing. Just needed to hear you, I suppose. To know you’re there somewhere.”   
  
Oddly, that made Thomas smile a bit. Felt selfish in a way, to feel glad he could at least do that for Richard.   
  
“Be here all night if you need.”   
  
They sat in silence for a little while, just listening to the white noise behind each other’s end of the line. Richard seemed like he needed to breathe a bit.   
  
With another faltering breath, he finally just said, “Thank you. I mean it.”   
  
“I do, too,” Thomas added. “I’ll sit here until breakfast if it helps.”   
  
And then a thought.   
  
“Would you like me to come up? To York, I mean?”   
  
He immediately realized he probably shouldn’t be making offers he may not be able to come though on.   
  
But he knew the house could spare him. Baxter was the only one who truly knew about his relationship with Richard. He figured most of the others had put two and two together on their own, but he only outright told her.    
  
Amazingly, she was never anything but kind and understanding whenever he would take his collected time off to see Richard every few months. He would think she would be willing to cover for him when it came to a matter like this. Even help with a story for upstairs.   
  
“Awfully kind of you,” Richard said, trying not to sound hopeful. “But you couldn’t manage it could you?”   
  
“I might just be able to,” Thomas said. “Someone down here probably owes me a favor and can handle a few shifts in my absence.”   
  
Richard was quiet again, thinking it over.    
  
“Of course I would never say no to seeing you, no matter the circumstance,” he said decidedly. “But Thomas… if it’s too much -”   
  
“It’s not,” Thomas adds before Richard can talk himself into feeling guilty about the offer. “And I want to. Truly.”   
  
Richard weighs this for a second.   
  
“I think…” he adds, voice shaky again. “I think I actually do need you here. I - I don’t know how else I can…”   
  
He trails off, but Thomas can fill in the blanks, and has the final word on the matter.   
  
“I’ll make the arrangements.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas and Anna tell different stories to Lady Mary about his reason to get away. Richard is a wreck.
> 
> Very subtle reference to suicide in this chapter. Blink and you'll miss it, but it's there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel gay and depressed in this chili's tonight

“Ah, Barrow, glad I caught you,” Lady Mary called from a few feet down the corridor. 

Thomas braced himself, knowing those words usually were the start of asking for some urgent, important favor. But in fact, he had come in search of Lady Mary himself, to lay down his own pressing matters.   
  
“Actually, I’m rather glad to see you myself, m’lady,” he started once their paths met. “You see -”

“Lady Hexom’s just rung, it turns out they’ll be able to come in for dinner this evening after all,” Lady Mary interrupted, completely ignoring Thomas and obviously just putting on a faux happy face at the thought of her sister stopping by. Perhaps trying to get her words out before she could let the venom she had toward Lady Hexom seep into her voice.   
  
She really could be cold at times.   
  
“They’ll all be staying over, so it looks like we’ll need to make preparations for a few more tonight,” she continued, seeming to look right through Thomas even though her eyes were on him.   
  
Of course today of all days would be the one that things actually started to get busy around the house. Nothing was predictable anymore, it seemed. Everything and everyone had become far less formal when it came to plans, leaving Thomas no notice of changes most of the time.   
  
“I actually meant to ask you for a favor, m’lady,” he tried again. “I had a call myself late last night. There’s some… business I need to attend to out of town. Rather urgent, too.”   
  
“Tonight?” she asked, almost sounding accusatory. Like she thought he was up to something.   
  
Couldn’t quite blame her though, in that regard, all things considered.   
  
“Yes, unfortunately.”   
  
“Unfortunately?” Lady Mary added. “What sort of ‘business’ is this?”   
  
She said the word, knowingly. That it wasn’t regular business.   
  
Thomas was expecting this, ready to hit the blow.   
  
“Well, I suppose I shouldn’t put it like that,” he said, still keeping his look neutral, but looking down to avoid her gaze. “My sister was the one who spoke to me. News of our mother. She’s… taken ill. I was told I should make my way over if I’m to still see her when she’s…”   
  


Thomas let his words trail off, figuring Lady Mary would be smart enough to fill in the rest.   
  
He did feel guilty about this fake story, really. To basically steal Richard’s own plight as his own did feel wrong, but it was actually Baxter’s suggestion when he came to her with the news this morning after breakfast.   
  
_ “They’re always sympathetic towards family matters,” _ she’d said while they met in her sitting room to draw up a plan of action.  _ “I think they feel a bit guilty we’re always away from our own.” _   
  


“Oh, Barrow, I’m sorry to hear it,” Lady Mary said, if anything, to fill the silence. Her eyes did soften a tad, but they still searched him, almost like they could fact check his tale.   
  
“I normally wouldn’t bother, m’lady, but I haven’t seen her in some time,” he added, trying to pack on the heat. “Years, in fact.”   
  
That much was true at least. In all honesty it had been a couple decades since Thomas and his own mother had as much as spoken.    
  
It was more of a positive in his book, but now if the shoe fit…   
  
“But, I understand if you need me to stay on. Even though luncheon at least -”   
  
“No, no, it’s quite alright,” she cut off, putting her hand up to stop him from continuing. “I’m sure we can manage. I’ll speak with Baxter -”   
  
“I’ve already set up a plan with her, m’lady,” he quickly butted in. “Mr. Molesley would come up to assist, and Anna can be called up to help serve if need be. Ms. Baxter assured she would have everything under control.”   
  
“I don’t doubt it,” Lady Mary replied, trying at least a small smile. “I was going to ask Anna to come today, anyway. Mama for some reason wants to make a big to-do about all this. Figured I’d look the part.”   
  
“Quite so, m’lady,” Tomas replied, returning the meek smile. “I can at least relay the news of Lady and Lord Hexom to Mrs. Patmore and Ms. Baxter. But if you don’t mind, there is a train leaving at eleven that I may be able to make if I hurry.”   
  
“Of course,” she said with a nod. “Don’t worry about anything else, you must get on your way.”   
  
“I appreciate it, m’lady, truly,” he said as he turned back to where he came.   
  
That wasn’t a lie, either.   
  
“And Barrow?” Lady Mary called again after he put a few strides between them. “Do take our sympathies. And don’t feel the need to rush back. We’ll be fine.”   
  
Thomas gave a firm, quick nod, and continued on.   
  


* * *

Thomas had already packed a few things after he had gotten off the telephone with Richard the night before.   
  
He also took down the address to his mother’s house, and some rough directions to it from the station, figuring he wouldn’t have time to call back between everything else to finalize. He told Richard he would just come when he could. Richard said the door would be unlocked for him.   
  
Thomas also didn’t want to bother Richard in the meantime, not knowing how much alone time he had with his mother left. The last thing he needed was to worry about yet another person today.   
  
He’d sat on the train as a bundle of nerves, and tried to find a way to mellow himself out the whole ride. Thomas shouldn’t be anything but the steady one in this situation.   
  
Nevertheless, it still stood that he would be meeting his  _ lover’s _ only family in a way. But would his mother even understand what was going on? Or was she too far gone at this point?   
  
What if she had actually recovered a bit, then what? Would he actually have to speak to her?   
  
Never mind what he was going to say to Richard. He wasn’t good with the whole concept of death, ever since it was a welcome thought at one point.   
  
Still was some days, but he rarely admitted it. Except to Richard.   
  
Richard was so good to him, when the roles were reversed. Comfort and all that. Accepting and understanding above all else. It was already starting to eat at Thomas that he might not be the same in that regard.   
  
So now, as he stood mere inches from the door to Jane Ellis’ home, Thomas tried to gather the rest of his bearings. He wasn’t sure why he was hesitating, really. This was the right house. A weather worn wooden sign was hung on the side that read their surname.   
  
Thomas took hold of the doorknob, but wasn’t sure if he were to knock after all. What if he was about to walk in at the worst possible moment? Richard could be having a private moment with his mother. Saying goodbyes, perhaps.   
  
_ “Just go in,” _ Thomas thought.  _ “He wanted you here, warts and all.”  
  
_

With a deep breath in, he opened the door and was greeted by an entryway that split the small house in half, with the stairs to another level right in front. To his right, what seemed to be the kitchen and dining area. His left, what looked like a regularly used living room, with a couch and a couple chairs. An afghan was strewn across the sofa, ready to use.   
  
A home.    
  
Thomas shed his coat and hat and placed them on a rack next to the door. Two other coats and a men’s hat were already hung.   
  
It was a lovely space, he thought. Though a bit eerie, considering the quiet and what transpired just yesterday. It all looked well loved. Lived in.   
  
Thomas gingerly took the steps up to the first floor, since it seemed Richard wasn’t below. For really no reason, he felt like he had to keep the silence around him.   
  
The next floor had just three doors, one already open to a surprisingly large bedroom right in front of the stairway. He could see the sheets to the bed had been drawn down carefully, but the bed wasn’t remade.   
  
No one inside.   
  
Anxiety rising again, Thomas decided to try the door right next to the open bedroom.   
  
This time he knocked gently on the door, but opened it before waiting for an answer.   
  
Richard was alone in a smaller bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, hands clasped in front of him, looking down. Focused on nothing in particular.   
  
“Hello,” Thomas said, feeling a bit dumb about it. But what else was he supposed to say?   
  
Richard looked up at him when spoken to, face rather blank.   
  


He pressed his lips together, let out a sharp breath through his nose.   
  
“She’s gone.”   
  
Thomas didn’t respond, just stood in the doorway, his hand still on the knob.   
  
“Not long after we spoke last night, actually,” Richard said, his voice shockingly steady, as if this were a normal conversation. Shooting the breeze. “Perhaps a couple hours after the fact.”   
  
Thomas moved over to the bed and sat hip to hip with the other man. He ran his right hand up Richard’s back, and rested it on top his shoulder. But still said nothing.   
  
“The folks from the funeral home already came and got her first thing this morning,” Richard continued. “Didn’t really know exactly what to ask for when I called over. But I guess they’re used to that. Took care of it all. Very kind about it.”   
  
He blinked a few times, now looking at his hands that he’s ringing absentmindedly.   
  
“It… was all so quick… and matter-of-fact. It doesn’t seem like it really happened,” he said, some emotion coming back to his voice. “Only one day to go from… being lively and sharp to…”   
  
He finally lifted his head and looked around the room, as if it might have some sort of answer.   
  
“Whatever the hell this is.”   
  
Thomas’ hand fell back down to Richard’s back, and rubbed small circles lightly with the tips of his fingers.   
  
“Richard, are you alright?” he offered at last, looking into Richard’s face even though he wasn’t looking back.   
  
Richard have a single breathy laugh in response.   
  
“No. No, I’m not bloody alright,” he said, a bite in his words.   
  
He got up abruptly, started to pace the room with a hand in his hair, still looking around aimlessly.   
  
“I - I watched my mother  _ die _ , Thomas,” Richard said louder now, angry with something, but it didn’t sound directed at him. “She was 62, but she could’ve had years yet. I mean, my God, my grandfather lived to be 90.”

  
He stopped and finally looked at Thomas who was still seated on the edge of the bed.   
  
“I haven’t slept in over 24 hours. I don’t know what to do about a funeral… or a  _ fucking _ burial,” he started again, going a mile a minute. “But I’m damn near 40 years old, and I’ve been just… sitting here blubbering about my mum like a child all day so far. But I don’t know what to do now. Because I still need her here to tell me.”   
  
His voice broke off at the last few words, and brought a hand up to cover his mouth as if to catch his folly before he broke down into a choked off sob.   
  
Thomas came across the room, quickly wrapping Richard in an embrace and bringing his head to his shoulder.   
  
Richard kept his arms at his front, still in an attempt to cover his face.   
  
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.   
  
“Don’t be,” Thomas said softly back. “I’ve got you. It’s alright.”   
  


* * *

  
  
“Have you heard anything about Barrow today, Anna?” Lady Mary asked as she shrugged on her housecoat offered by the lady’s maid after she got undressed from dinner. “Did he get off alright earlier?”   
  
“Seemed like it, m’lady,” Anna replied. “He was already gone by the time I came in.”   
  
“Ugh, dreadful thing,” Lady Mary added. “Though I never pegged him for much of a family man.”   
  
“I don’t think he is, really,” Anna said. “But I guess it’s not exactly  _ his _ family now is it?”   
  
Lady Mary turned around to her sharply.   
  
“What do you mean?” she asked. “I was under the impression that his mother was ill.”   
  
Anna looked at her, mouth agape, quickly realizing there was a miscommunication as to what was being told upstairs. But it was too late to backtrack now.   
  
“Erm… no, you must’ve misheard, m’lady,” she stuttered, trying to recover. “It was a friend of his who needed some help with his own mother, I believe.”   
  
Lady Mary raised her eyebrows at that.   
  
“Funny,” she said, her eyes like daggers on Anna. “I didn’t know he had many friends outside the house.”   
  
“W-well, when I say friend…” Anna trailed off, knowing she was only making things worse as the words came out.   
  
“Anna,” Lady Mary said sharply. “What aren’t you telling me?”   
  
“It - it really isn’t my place to say, m’lady,” she tried.   
  
“I should think it is to his employer.”   
  
Anna gulped. She really didn’t mean to do this to Mr. Barrow, he didn’t deserve it, but she was in deep now.   
  
“Well, you know Mr. Barrow, m’lady,” she said, trying to keep it light. “This friend of his… they’re rather close. It - it makes sense that he should want to go see him while he’s going through a hard time. It’s nice, really.”   
  
Surprisingly, Lady Mary softened at this.   
  
“Do you mean to say…” she said slowly, searching for how to put it. “They’re together?”   
  
Anna took a step back, a bit shocked at the frankness of it.   
  
“Well -”   
  
“Like you said, we know,” Lady Mary said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t see the point in beating around the bush about it.”   
  
“I suppose so,” Anna replied, trying to seem at ease, but the way she was fiddling with the hands said otherwise. “I mean… Mr. Barrow’s obviously never said so outright. But…”   
  
She took a deep breath.   
  
“I believe they are, yes.”   
  
Lady Mary just nodded and sat back down at her vanity, picking up a cloth to begin to wash her face.   
  
“He really does seem a nice man, though, m’lady,” Anna continued, trying to make something out of this positive. “He’s looked in downstairs a few times over the years and -”   
  
“Years?” Lady Mary said with surprise in her voice, looking at Anna through the mirror. “My, they must be serious.”   
  
Anna didn’t say anything at that. She couldn’t confirm or deny the severity of whatever Mr. Barrow and Mr. Ellis had together.   
  
“Seems to still be a family matter in my book, then,” Lady Mary added, matter-of-factly.    
  
“Really, m’lady?”    
  
Lady Mary shrugged. “People have been  _ married _ on less than that. Myself included.”   
  
She rose from the vanity again, her face now rid of makeup.   
  
“That’ll be all tonight,” Lady Mary said with a smile, as if the previous conversation hadn’t just happened. “Thank you, Anna.”   
  
Anna gave a curt nod, and made to leave. “I’ll say goodnight then, m’lady.”   
  
“One more thing though,” Lady Mary said as she reached the door. “Let’s… keep all that between us, shall we? I think the last thing Barrow needs regardless right now is rumours going about the house.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: i can write a little of this downton abbey story while drinking some vodka soda after work! as a treat !
> 
> me, past midnight, has to get up early tomorrow: Makes This Monstrosity 
> 
> Give me your hate comments I Am Ready


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While suffering from a bit of insomnia, Richard reflects on the past and talks about the future with Thomas.

Thomas blinked his eyes open after he couldn’t quite find a comfortable enough position to get back to sleep. The smaller bedroom at the Ellis residence was still dark, but moonlight poured through the lone window on an adjacent wall. Just enough light came in that he could read the alarm clock on the nightstand.    
  
Half three in the morning.

Thomas squeezed his eyes shut again and sighed as he rolled back over away from the dim light. He could never get a good night’s sleep in an unfamiliar place, even though it was now a somewhat regular occurrence every few months.   
  
He reached over to the other side of the bed, expecting to reach Richard, but instead, his hand hit the warm, yet empty mattress.   
  
With another huff, lifted himself up off his pillow to look at the blank space next to him.    
  
Appeared that he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t find some rest tonight.   
  
Thomas rose out of bed, figuring he wouldn’t get back to sleep any time soon. His feet hit the cold hardwood floor. He put on Richard’s housecoat that was draped over the footboard, knowing he wouldn’t mind since he didn’t seem to need it.   
  
Exiting into the hallway, he could see a brighter light flooding in from the bedroom next door. It only took a few steps to peak in and see Richard remaking the bed inside, smoothing out a new quilt on top.

He looked up as Thomas leaned against the doorway, stopping his work.   
  
He sighed and let his shoulders drop. “Couldn’t sleep.”   
  
“Makes two of us,” Thomas said, giving a small, tired smile. “Thought you’d be exhausted though.”   
  
Richard hadn’t slept much at all in the last two days. He’d told Thomas he didn’t leave his mother’s side after she passed until the funeral home came.    
  
He seemed in a daze since Thomas arrived, and understandably so. Thomas managed to convince Richard to eat something and at least lie down while he took care of making some arrangements over the phone. Probably unnecessary, but Thomas told the funeral director that he was Jane Ellis’ nephew. Just to cover his bases.   
  
Although thankfully it had been some years since he’d had to do anything like it, there had been enough deaths at Downton during his time there that he knew how to handle a few things when it came to funeral preparations.   
  
“My body feels exhausted,” Richard replied, rubbing his eyes. “But I can’t quite get my mind to go quiet.”   
  
Thomas crossed the room, and sat on the edge of the bed facing away from the door, pulling Richard down with him.   
  
“Can’t say I don’t know the feeling,” he admitted, snaking an arm around the other man’s shoulders. “But it might do you some good to just rest your eyes a bit before tomorrow comes.”   
  
Richard leaned into Thomas’ side, closing his eyes.    
  
“God, I don’t want to think about it,” he said quietly. “I was just looking in her address book, trying to make sense of who I ought to try and get a hold of. Already told her sisters before you came, and they’ll pass the word along to my cousins and so forth. But I didn’t realize she has so many damn  _ friends _ .”   
  
Thomas chuckled a bit at Richard’s dark humor, moving the hand already around him up to his hair. “I wouldn’t consider that a bad thing, really.”   
  
Richard smiled a bit at that.    
  
“No, ‘course not,” he said. “I shouldn’t be surprised, either. She’s quite the social butterfly.”   
  
Although it was a kind comment, it struck Thomas as bittersweet to hear Richard still refer to his mother in the present tense.   
  
He continued to comb a hand through Richard’s hair, hoping it was making him feel a bit more relaxed. Whenever the roles were reversed, Thomas liked it.   
  
“Feels a bit strange,” Richard added after some moments. “Whenever I was having a bad night when I was small, after a nightmare or something of the sort… I’d come in here, and Mum would set me on the bed like this, soothe me back to sleep. Now you’re trying to do the same. Almost like deja vu.”   
  
Thomas laughed lightly. “Are you saying I’m mothering you?”   
  
Richard pulled back from the touch, looking embarrassed.    
  
“I’m sorry, that’s probably an odd thing to say.”   
  
“No, no, don’t worry,” Thomas reassured with a smile, reaching back out to touch his arm. “Only teasing, I don’t mind.”   
  
He looked around Richard, taking in the room for the first time. It was smartly decorated. Impressionist-looking art was hung on the walls, one depicting a serene scene of a meadow above the bed and another cityscape painted in watercolor near the door. The furniture was a bit well-loved, but intricate, and all matching.   
  
Thomas’ eyes landed on a framed photograph on a table beside the bed. He reached across Richard and brought it up the them.   
  
It seemed a rather old picture, yellowing a bit at the edges. A young woman was seated in it, with a small child behind her with a hand on her shoulder. Even though they both looked serious, the woman had a slight upturn on her lips, the kind look reaching her bright eyes.   
  
“Was this her?” Thomas asked, turning the photo toward Richard.   
  
“And me,” he answered, a grin starting to show on his face for the first time in two days. “I believe I was only about eight years old there.”   
  
Thomas learned in close to Richard again, to look at the photo together. The other man’s grin seemed to be infectious, as Thomas was beginning to beam along with him.   
  
“Could’ve guessed. You look just like her.”   
  
Thomas wasn’t just winding him up. Although his mother looked to be a bit younger than Richard was currently, he was her spitting image. Same face shape, high cheekbones, whatever it was in their faces that made them always look like they had a bit of a smile.   
  
“You wouldn’t be the first to tell us,” Richard said, turning to look at Thomas now. “She’s aged well, doesn’t look much different now than she does there, believe it or not. There’s been a few times now that folks have mistaken us for siblings.”   
  
Thomas gave him a smug smile.

“Well, I don’t mean to discredit her, but it might say more of you than your mum,” he teased, bringing a hand back to Richard’s hair, threading it through the side. “You’re a bit more grey from when I last saw you.”   
  
Richard chuckled softly, making Thomas only smile more at the sight.    
  
“I do bet she was just as lovely as you though,” Thomas added softly, dropping his hand back to Richard’s arm, giving it a squeeze. “Wish I could’ve met her.”

Richard looked away from him again, pressing his lips together, no longer smiling, but still not looking quite as sad as he did to begin with.   
  
He took the photo from Thomas and placed it back on the table where it came from, straightening it out so it looked as if it wasn’t moved in the first place, but his hand lingered on it.   
  
“I… told her about you, actually. In the end.”   
  
Thomas stared at him, trying not to look as taken aback as he felt.   
  
As much as Richard had spoken highly of his mother to Thomas, he did also say that she never knew of his… inclinations. Claimed he had no plans of telling her, either. The fear of her not wanting to be in his life anymore far outweighed any desire he had to brag about his relationship with Thomas.   
  
“I don’t think she was… processing anything around her at that point. She was just lying here, almost like she was sleeping, but still...” Richard continued, turning back to Thomas. “I was just talking about whatever came to mind while I sat with her. And… it was after I called over to you the first time, so it just came out.”   
  
“What exactly did you say?” Thomas asked, taking his hand and intertwining their fingers.   
  
“Just that at first,” Richard answered simply. “That I called you. But then, I just kept going. Told her what I told you later on... that I needed to hear your voice.”   
  
Thomas saw that Richard was starting to get a tear in his eye and squeezed his hand tighter, waiting for him to continue.   
  
“But then I told her  _ why _ I needed that,” Richard said after a few moments to breathe. “I said it was because you were someone very special to me. Someone I loved, actually. That you were someone I think she’d get along with rather well.”   
  
Thomas looked at their hands clasped together between them.   
  
“Did you mean it?” he asked quietly. “That you think we would’ve… gotten along?”   
  
Richard shrugged.    
  
“I don’t know, honestly. I’m not sure if I said it for her or myself,” he said just as quietly. “But like I said, she was so friendly. If you were… anything else to me, I would be confident that she’d have been nothing but kind.”   
  
Thomas nodded, knowing what he meant. Family could be a fickle thing. His own family was known for being kind and hospitable to everyone. That is, before his mother caught him and another boy from down the street in his bedroom when he was 15. Then, they were kind to everyone  _ but _ their own son.   
  
“For some reason… I still had to let her know,” Richard said. “To let her go without letting her in on the truth felt wrong somehow.”   
  
“Do you feel better about it now?” Thomas asked, treading lightly on the subject. “Putting it out there?”   
  
Richard paused, mulling the question over.   
  
“Not sure if I feel  _ good _ ,” he landed on. “But I do think I would feel worse if I hadn’t. Guilty, in a way.”   
  
“Why guilty?”   
  
“Because… I get everything now,” Richard added with a sigh. “Everything she owned is getting passed down to me. Any savings she had left, her possessions, this  _ house _ .”    
  
He gestured around them, a bit exasperated.   
  
“I mean, her will’s not been officially read yet, but I know it’s there. She told me when she made it what her plans were,” Richard explained. “And… I don’t know, I felt like maybe I was conning her into… passing down a home I would share with you.”   
  
Thomas blinked.   
  
“Share with me?”   
  
“I just mean… we’ve talked about it before,” Richard said, turning more towards Thomas to look him in the eye. “Trying to make it work. Together.”   
  
They had talked about it. However, to Thomas, the conversations always seemed more like pipe dreams. Finding a home, leaving service, and making a life for themselves together. To him, the reality of it seemed improbable, even though the thought was lovely.   
  
The truth was,  _ living _ together was dangerous. Thomas figured nothing would bring more prying eyes and suspicion than two men who were nearing forty years old and “bachelors” sharing a home. Let alone finances.   
  
“There’s a lot to think about when it comes down to it, Richard,” Thomas said, not trying to exactly say no. “And we don’t have to make decisions right now. There’s other things we need to focus on.”   
  
“But I’d like us to think about it,” Richard said. “It would be more discreet than say, renting a flat.”   
  
Thomas sighed, trying not to look too down and put even more of a damper on the whole situation.   
  
“But it’s not just as simple as that, is it?” he replied. “We’d have to quit our jobs, find new careers. If the wrong person found out what we were doing -”   
  
“I know,” Richard interrupted. “All I’m saying is… it’s an option. And I know there’s at least some savings left behind, and I have some money in the bank myself. We could be comfortable if we did it right.”  
  
“And I’m not dismissing the idea completely just yet,” Thomas added. “But, you’ve also had a lot to deal with in just a couple of days.”   
  
He got up, offering his hand to pull Richard with him.   
  
“You could do with a bit of rest before making any big plans, don’t you think?”   
  
Richard faltered, but didn’t look defeated.   
  
“I suppose.”   
  
Thomas leaned in, pecking a small kiss on his lips. Then pulled back, grimacing a bit while he brought a hand up to Richard’s cheek.   
  
“Could do with a shave, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another day, another chapter written late at night with minimal editing
> 
> we really out here just typing shit into a google doc and sending it off so!!! sorry for typos and things not making sense!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas considers the possibility of making a new life.

Thomas returned to the abbey two mornings after his overnight conversation with Richard where he tried to brush the subject of the newfound homeownership under the rug.

But Richard was unrelenting on the issue of his inheritance. It’s not like his mother was drowning in riches as a woman who spent the majority of her life as a single mother trying her best. But she made due, and had her own possessions given to her by Richard’s father long ago.   
  
The topic was brought up again before Thomas’ departure as they walked to the train station, after they spent the day before finalizing details about a funeral and burial and getting in contact with his mother’s loved ones.

“Whatever you think of it, the house will still be in my name,” Richard had said, after Thomas once again addressed the subject with ambiguity. “So  _ something _ will have to be done about it eventually.”

“Something will,” Thomas retorted. “But there’s plenty of options to think over in the meantime. Though I understand why you’re stuck on just the one.”   
  
“Three years, Thomas,” was all Richard said as they started to mix in with the hoards of other people coming and going from their own travels.   
  
Thomas just nodded, knowing the weight of the words. Three years since they’ve met. Three years of mostly letters and occasional phone calls. Three years where they could only actually  _ touch _ on too-short holidays.    
  
“I did say I’d think about it,” he said.   
  
“I know.”   
  
“How about we let our lives get back to normal a bit before making any rash decisions?” Thomas said, hushed. “Let the dust fall.”   
  
“Isn’t that just it though?” Richard questioned back. “We don’t exactly lead normal lives. That dust may never fall unless we stop the wind from blowing it around.”   


They stopped walking as they reached the platform. Thomas put down his luggage and properly faced the other man.   
  
“I only want for you to look after yourself after all this,” Thomas said in the same low tone, keeping their conversation away from the ears of potential eavesdroppers. “Everything else can wait. Will you promise me that?”   
  
Richard dropped some of the tension in his shoulders, knowing this meant the end of the matter for now.   
  
“I will.”   


* * *

Thomas was already back in livery by that evening. He was, of course, drained after the last few days, but he didn’t want to push the good graces of the Crawleys.    
  
Although Lady Mary had told him not to rush back, he did still feel a bit guilty putting more work on the staff. Anyhow, he and Richard had agreed it would be a bit much for him to stay through a funeral and have to come up with more stories as to who he was and why he was there.   
  
However, the work didn’t excuse Thomas from having to face getting sympathies from everyone both up and downstairs, who had been told it was  _ his _ mother that was dying.    
  
Mostly everyone had been easy enough to dismiss though, with a “thank you,” and “I’d rather not talk about it if you don’t mind.”

Though he knew it was only politeness, he was happy to bother with menial tasks in an attempt to shoo away the lingering thought that the kind words were undeserved, based on deceit and lies. Something he wouldn’t have batted an eye at when he was younger, but after working for years to become trusted and liked and a friend to these people… it felt a step in the wrong direction.   
  
So as Thomas stood in the drawing room, he tried to put all his focus on cleaning up the after dinner drinks, forcing some extra care in the job. Trying not letting his mind wander to all that, and worrying about Richard, now alone in an empty house and a city that’s no longer his.   
  
“Barrow?” a voice asked from behind him.   
  
He turned to face Lady Mary, seeming to stay behind as the rest of the family was making their way out.

“Yes, m’lady?” Thomas asked, though he knew what was coming, if everyone else’s comments throughout the day were any indication.   
  
She looked over her shoulder, seeming to check they were truly alone.   
  
“I just wanted to say how terribly sorry I am,” she said, with what looked like a genuine look of concern.   
  
Thomas plastered on a friendly smile, ready to go through the rigmarole again.   
  
“Thank you, m’lady, but I’m -”    
  
“About your friend.”   
  
He stopped as Lady Mary cut him off, looking like a fish out of water as he tried to puzzle together what she was saying.   
  
“Anna had told me that it was really… someone special that you had gone to see,” she continued, filling the silence. “That  _ he _ was actually the one in need.”   
  
Thomas stood frozen in place, still looking at Lady Mary dumbfounded.    
  
“Anna, m’lady?”    
  
She must’ve heard wrong. Anna wasn’t told the truth of his leave of absence, to his knowledge. Baxter had promised to keep his story the same among the other servants, for consistency's sake. Not that everyone in the staff was in the dark about Richard’s “friendship” with him, seeing as he’d dropped in in the past. But not everyone had to know it was a friendship close enough to warrant a trip to see him in a crisis. People would talk.   
  
In fact, it seemed like they already were.   
  
“You mustn’t get angry with her, I’m afraid I rather forced her hand on the matter,” Lady Mary continued, still calm as ever. “But I felt as if you should know that… I’d found out.”   
  
Thomas’ mouth had done dry. It wasn’t Anna he’d have to have a word with. She wouldn’t have said anything if she hasn’t been told. That is, he’d have a few words if after this conversation he was even allowed to go back downstairs.    
  
He knew at least Lord Grantham had known of his  _ nature _ , if it could be put so plainly. Still do this day couldn’t wrap his mind around how he had let him stay after everything that had happened under his roof.   
  
However, he didn’t know if Lady Mary, or anyone else for that matter, would be so gracious.   
  
“I’m sorry, m’lady,” was all he could say, thinking putting forth any more would only worsen the situation. Or if anything, get him emotional.   
  
Lady Mary only softened, willing a small smile.    
  
“It’s quite alright,” she said. “Really, she didn’t tell me anything too shocking.”   
  
Was he that obvious, or did word travel farther in this house than he thought?   
  
“I thought you ought to know, too, that I still stand by my sympathies,” she added. “And if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. Anything we’d extend to the staff, we’d extend to their loved ones.”   
  
Thomas just stared, trying to process Lady Mary’s words. There had been times she’d been kind to him of course. However, more often than not she seemed to be self-serving and uppity.   
  
On the other hand, she was known to make a stand on controversial topics in the past.   
  
“I… Thank you, m’lady,” he stammered, still weary that the other shoe will drop at any moment. “I must say, I wasn’t… expecting this.”   
  
“How long have we known each other, Barrow? Twenty years?” she asked.   
  
“Just about I believe,” Thomas replied, treading lightly.   
  
“Well then,” Lady Mary said with a teasing smile. “With loyalty like that, after all you’ve seen go on here, who am I to judge?”   
  
Thomas looked away. He could think of a few things that would be worthy of judgement. This being one of them.   
  
“I would however, appreciate some candor in the future, Barrow,” she continued. “With me, anyhow. Seeing as it’s all… laid out.”   
  
He swallowed.   
  
“Of course, m’lady.”   


* * *

  
Thomas had rushed downstairs to find Baxter after Lady Mary let him go after their own private conversation.   
  
Although she had come across as, actually, rather understanding, Thomas wasn’t exactly trusting of her. Secrets weren’t her strong suit, but getting the upper hand in any given situation was.   
  
“I need to speak with you. Privately.”   
  
Baxter was finishing setting the table for the servant’s dinner, unmoved by Thomas’ tone.   
  
“Now?”   
  
“Yes, Ms. Baxter, I’m afraid so.”   
  
He turned on his heel, signaling for Baxter to follow.   
  
She set down her armful of plates to march behind Thomas into the butler’s pantry. He closed the door with some force once she made her way in.   
  
“Lady Mary has just informed me that Anna gave her the full truth on my whereabouts these last few days. And who I was with.”   
  
Baxter looked at her feet, immediately knowing where this was going.   
  
“Wondered if you might know where she got that information.”   
  
She didn’t look up. “Is her ladyship upset with you?”   
  
“Where’d Anna learn about this?” Thomas asked again, just as sharply, but softer.   
  
“I… I just said you were going to see a friend, that’s all,” she said sheepishly.   
  
“And did you tell her who this ‘friend’ was?”   
  
Baxter nodded.   
  
“But I never told her what it really was,” she added, still avoiding looking Thomas in the eye.    
  
“No,” Thomas said, feigning an apologetic tone. “But Anna’s sharp. Can figure things out on her own, can’t she?”   
  
Baxter bit her lip.   
  
“She’s met him before, been kind and all,” she tried to reason. “We were just making conversation. I didn’t think she’d say anything.”   
  
“Well, you told her,” Thomas said, voice startling steady. “What’s to stop her from telling her her own friend? Since her and her ladyship are so close.”   
  
Baxter finally looked at him.   
  
“Is she upset?” she asked again.   
  
Thomas sighed.    
  
“Didn’t seem like it -”   
  
“Well then, no harm no foul,” Baxter all but pled in a desperate attempt to stay on her friend’s good side.   
  
“But who knows with Lady Mary?” Thomas finished.   
  
“What did she say exactly?”   
  
Thomas went back to his desk and opened a bottom drawer. After a few seconds of digging his hand reemerged with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Sitting on the edge of the desk, he lit one,taking a long drag before answering.   
  
“She wanted to kindly let me know she still gives her sympathies,” he said sarcastically. “Though whether she means for the death of my lover’s mother or just my general inclinations…”   
  
He shrugged.    
  
“Who’s to say?”  
  
Baxter gestured to the cigarette.   
  
“Been a while since you’ve had one of those.”   
  
“Yes well, I’ve also had a hell of a week,” Thomas replied curtly, taking another drag and letting the smoke exhale through his mouth.   
  
He put a hand to his face, rubbing his thumb and forefinger between his eyes. He set his gloved hand holding the cigarette in his lap, smoke billowing slowly off it.   
  
“I just can’t...worry about one more thing right now.”   
  
Baxter moved towards the desk herself, taking up shop in a nearby chair.   
  
“I shouldn’t worry about Lady Mary,” she said. “She can be cruel at times, I suppose, but what would she gain from telling anyone about you and Mr. Ellis?”   
  
Thomas took a deep breath.   
  
“Leverage,” he said. “In anything. Could make me do anything or stop me from doing anything with a secret like that. Hang it over my head.”   
  
He turned to look down at Baxter.   
  
“So you can imagine why I’d appreciate some discretion on your part,” he said, enunciating his words. ”One wrong person, Ms.Baxter. It’s all it takes.”   
  
“I know, and I’m sorry,” she said, less quiet now. “But I thought you’ve given up a tad on the notion that everyone in this house is out to get you.”   
  
“Can never be too careful. ‘Specially now. With the way things might be going.”   
  
She shot him a confused look.   
  
“How d’you mean?”   
  
Thomas sighed. As angry as he was with Baxter, she was still his only true confidant.    
  
“Richard is inheriting his mother’s home,” he said, slowly, continuing to smoke. “Thinks it would be a good idea to move there.”   
  
Baxter shrugged. “I don’t see why he shouldn’t.”   
  
“He wants  _ me _ to move there.”   
  
“Oh,” Baxter said, coming around, but still unsure. “But… you don’t want to?”   
  
Thomas looked away from her and towards the cigarette he was fiddling in his hands.   
  
“Honestly, I don’t know what I want.”   
  
“I would have thought you’d be eager to leave service,” she said, with a hint of surprise creeping into her voice. “I know at least at one point you would have jumped at the chance.”   
  
“What chance is there, though?” Thomas asked. “Hasn’t worked out well in the past. I don’t have much skills outside of service. Would be hard enough in that area, finding a new career. Let alone finding a way to do so with another man living at my same address. Would be easy enough to find that out.”   
  
“There’s lots of jobs that just require a bit of training, if any at all,” Baxter supplied. “And you’ve got some medical training, you know how to keep books and records, and you’re a hard worker overall.”   
  
She reached out to place a hand on his forearm.   
  
“If it’s something you want, you could do it. Make a life out of it.”   
  
“After I’ve finally made a life here?” he snapped. “Nearly twenty years here, and I just now have a liveable income, a steady position, people who seem to finally give a fuck about me. Am I supposed to just throw it away?”   
  
“You wouldn’t be giving up us, if that’s what’s holding you back,” said Baxter. “I at least try to think I’m not so shallow as to toss someone aside that easily.”   
  
“I’ve been lucky here,” Thomas continued. “For the most part. I’ve complained about the folks here, but they’re good to me in the end. You saved my life for God’s sake.”   
  
Baxter sat back in her chair. They let silence fill the room for a few moments, mulling over the words spoken.   
  
“And I can’t see any other employer giving me as many chances as they have,” Thomas continued. “Part of me thinks I owe them that much. To stay on. Not to mention the power they would have to stop me from trying to leave if they wanted.”   
  
“Why won’t you let yourself be happy?” Baxter asked in a low voice.   
  
“I’m sorry?”   
  
She sat forward again, studying him.   
  
“You think you owe the world or people something in return for being happy. It has to be purchased,” she continued. She was firm, but soft. The way a priest might talk to a parishioner confessing a sin. “You can’t just let happiness come to you. But that’s not how it works. You’re allowed to take on a good thing, a good  _ person _ if you think it would make anything better. No matter what you’ve done you can grant yourself a good, happy life.”   
  
Thomas stubbed out the remainder of his cigarette on a teacup saucer left from earlier in the day.   
  
“And what if I don’t think this would make anything better? What if it wouldn’t make me happy?”   
  
Baxter opened her mouth to respond, but a knock on the door startled them both as the footman entered unannounced.   
  
“Dinner is being served, if you’d like to join, Mr. Barrow. Ms. Baxter.”   
  
Thomas stood up from the edge of the desk, composing himself immediately, his face going back to a neutral state.    
  
“Thank you, Eugene, be there in a moment,” he said, leveled.   
  
The footman nodded, leaving the door open as he left.   
  
Thomas turned back to Baxter, his face still unreadable.   
  
“Be careful in the future with this, Ms. Baxter. When in doubt, keep it to yourself.”   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally unrelated, but I was home sick from work Sunday with an awful chest cold and rewatched ALL of Fleabag. So all I have to say is God bless Phoebe Waller-Bridge. That's it that's the notes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard discovers an open door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is about 1000 words longer than the rest... oops.

Richard stood just outside the open gate to the cemetery. He held a cigarette lit in his hand, but wasn’t really smoking it. If anything it was just to look like he was doing something.   
  
The truth was he didn’t have anything to do at all now, and so he didn’t know what was next. He’d stayed behind after the funeral for a short while, letting himself have a few final moments alone with his mother. Or at least that’s how he’d rationed it in his head.   
  
In the end, it felt a bit mad. Richard wasn’t a religious man. He didn’t believe in an afterlife, so he knew in his heart of hearts that whatever he was saying or just thinking wasn’t getting shared with anyone but himself.   
  
However, his mother was a Christian woman. Not a particularly devout one, but she went to church and prayed nonetheless. She believed in a heaven somewhere above, so on the off chance she was right, he believed he owed as much to send some thoughts her way.   
  
Richard himself felt more like he was in purgatory. Stuck in some vacuum between before and after, a void of nothingness emotion. But what frightened him more than the nothing was the  _ something _ that came after all this. And he wasn’t quite sure what that was.   
  
As long as he stood in this spot, pretending to smoke and ponder his own mortality, he wouldn’t have to face it. So that’s what he was going to do.   
  
Making arrangements, having Thomas there, focusing on doing what had to be done had given Richard some inertia. An invisible force moving him forward, pushing through time. But now gravity was the force at hand, keeping him rooted in this spot and this moment.

Looking over his shoulder and back into the graveyard, he spotted a figure coming towards him. He watched him as he approached, tipping his hat as a polite courtesy. The other man did the same, continuing to walk forward in Richard’s direction.   
  
As the other man got close enough, he smiled. Meekly, but kind.   
  
“You must be Jane’s boy,” he called once within earshot.   
  
“The same,” Richard replied. “And you are?”   
  
“Oh of course,” the other man flustered, seeming to come to the realization just now that they were strangers, and stuck out his hand for Richard to shake. “Alexander Vogel. Pleased to make your acquaintance, though I wish it were under better circumstances.”   
  
Alexander Vogel was a stockier man, quite a few inches shorter than Richard, and probably a few years his mother’s senior. He had a thick gray moustache that covered his mouth, but his cheeks and eyes could show he was smiling despite it.   
  
Richard recognized the name. It was on one of just a few pages in his mother’s address book that had been dog-eared, with a star by his listing. He’d chosen to contact him directly over the phone about her passing. Although most of that work with others was rather awkward, Mr. Vogel had been nothing but pleasant. Told him they were good friends, gave a few stories of her. Seemed to be genuinely and deeply saddened to hear the news.   
  
“Knew you must’ve been the one who rang the other day when I spotted you at the service earlier,” Mr. Vogel continued as Richard reached out to shake his hand. “You got her looks.”   
  
He tapped a finger to his temple.   
  
“‘Specially in the eyes.”   
  
Richard smiled earnestly for the first time that day.   
  
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”   
  
Mr. Vogel chuckled. “You should. She was a beautiful woman. Inside and out.”   
  
“I agree,” Richard replied. He reached back into his vest pocket to grab his cigarette case and offer one to his new acquaintance.   
  
Mr. Vogel shook his head and held a hand up to politely deny the gesture.   
  
“I just wanted to come ‘round since I saw you here and tell you how sorry I am again,” he said. “It’s an awful thing to lose a parent. I’ve actually just swung over to see my own, they’re buried here as well. I know I’m an old man, but the pain never leaves for those we’ve been closest too.”   
  
He paused, but then sputtered, realizing who he was talking to.   
  
“I’m sorry - wasn’t thinking - I mean you probably don’t need to hear that today of all days.”   
  
“It’s quite alright,” Richard reassured. “I’m rather glad someone’s finally being frank about it, to tell you the truth.”   
  
Everyone else today, although he knew it was meant in good nature, had told him to keep his head up, reach out if he needed anything, there are brighter days ahead, et cetera.   
  
He’d much rather hear the reality of it all. To have someone let him know it was alright to feel bloody worn out from the experience.   
  
Mr. Vogel must’ve known he felt as such, because he clasped his shoulder and looked up at him with sympathetic eyes.   
  
“How are you holding up, son?”   
  
“Oh, you know,” Richard said with a huff. “One day at a time, I suppose.”   
  
Mr. Vogel nodded, likely knowing the translation of that meant  _ not holding up much at all, thanks. _ _   
_ _   
_ He gave his shoulder a light squeeze before dropping his hand. Perhaps too friendly for a man Richard just met, but he didn’t mind really.   
  
“And where you off to from here?” he asked.   
  
Richard shook his head. That was the question of the day, wasn’t it?   
  
“Back home, I guess. At some point,” he said, unsure. “I work in London, though. I’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning.”   
  
“Alone?” Mr. Vogel asked, looking a bit taken aback at the notion.   
  
Richard shrugged. He thought of Thomas for a moment, wishing he could’ve stayed longer so he wouldn’t have had to be just that tonight.   
  
“I’m all that’s left in town. Mum’s sisters came, a few of my cousins, too, but they’re making their way out of town at the moment. No one lives close anymore. Everyone’s got other matters to attend to.”   
  
“Well, we can’t have that,” Mr. Vogel claimed as though it were fact. “Let me get you a pint or something. Take your mind off it…. Or keep your mind on it, if you’d prefer.”   
  
Richard shook his head again.   
  
“That’s very kind, but you don’t have to spend money on me. I’ll be alright, truly.”   
  
“Well then, come back to mine,” he insisted. “We can just have a cup of tea. You can stay awhile if you like.”   
  
Richard sighed, knowing the man wouldn’t be giving up soon on this. He probably had a multitude of other offers up his sleeve.   
  
Mr. Vogel leaned in after a few moments of Richards hesitation.   
  
“No one should be alone on the day they had to bury their mother.”   
  
He may have had a point there. And having some company would be better than standing here for God knows how long, wallowing in his own self pity. Mr. Vogel seemed a nice enough bloke, bit of a fatherly type.   
  
“Well, if it wouldn’t be any trouble,” Richard relented.   
  
“No, no, no,” Mr. Vogel reassured, waving a hand. “No trouble at all.”   
  


* * *

  
As it turned out, Mr. Vogel didn’t live too far from his mother’s - or now, his - house. Just down the road a few blocks.

Honestly, Richard was a bit embarrassed he didn’t recognize the man. Or at least put two and two together, because he lived above a shop blatantly labeled “Harris & Vogel Grocery” that Richard had been in quite a few times, and had probably passed on the street much more than that.

Richard told Mr. Vogel as such, but the man dismissed him with a wave of his hand.   
  
“Ah, don’t think much of it,” he said once they were up the stairs and into his flat. “If it was recent, I might not have seen you ‘round myself. My partner - he’s the one who does most of the day to day now. I can’t be bothered much with it. I’ll do the books and make the orders, but I’m nearing seventy and looking to give it up, truly.”   
  
“Is that Harris on your sign looking to take it over all himself?” Richard asked, making polite conversation.   
  
Mr. Vogel scoffed, but it seemed to be in good humor.   
  
“Jack - that is Harris, but he tells everyone to use his given name, mind you - he’s only two years younger than I am, but he enjoys keeping busy. Thinks it keeps him spry or something like that,” Mr. Vogel laughed. “I do keep telling him - I say - we ought to retire before he keels over on the job. Sell the damn place and we’ll split the profit for some savings. He’s not so keen on the idea just yet. Wants to make sure it’s going into good hands because he doesn’t want to see the shop driven into the ground.”   
  
Mr. Vogel rolled his eyes.

  
“But I don’t think that’ll happen, and if it does, who cares? Out of our hands, out of sight, out of mind. We’ve been in business since ‘89 and if the grocery’s survived this long, it’ll be fine. And we rent out the flat above this one. He can continue to do that if he really needs something to do. We don’t have to get rid of the whole building,” he continued, seeming to not take a breath between all of it. “Now, you make yourself at home, I’m going to put the kettle on.”   
  
He was out of the room before hearing a word from Richard. It was clear Mr. Vogel liked the sound of his own voice once he got to talking, but oddly enough it didn’t bother Richard. The man was more of a storyteller than a narcissist.   
  
Richard shed his coat and hat and placed it on a rack by the door next to Mr. Vogel’s own. The flat was small, but cozy. It opened up to a quaint living space, just a couch and chair around a little coffee table, but on the opposite wall was a large picture window overlooking the street below, letting in enough sun so there wasn’t a need to turn on a lamp.   
  
He took a seat on the couch, surveying the space. Richard thought it felt much like his mother’s home in a way. Small, but well-loved. Definitely had a bit of personality. A stack of books, most looking like novels, sat on the table. Too many of them were piled to be decoration.    
  
Richard’s nightstand in his room back at the palace was the same. He always found himself starting a new story before finishing another. At the moment, he was working through four different books and he often had to reread a bit before taking one up to remember which plots were in which stories. He found it funny that he must not be the only one with the habit.   
  
“Now your mother,” Mr. Vogel said, continuing as he reentered the room with a tea tray as if he never stepped out. “She would come in once a week - always on a Thursday afternoon - come get her shopping done. Been stopping in for years now. That’s how we got to talking. She could chat about anything. We’d always get on some topic or gossip that didn’t really matter. Jack had gotten mad at us for holding up a line once or twice, but I just called it good customer service.”   
  
He set the tray down, moving the books over as he did so.   
  
“Milk and sugar?”   
  
“Please.”   
  
Mr. Vogel poured, continuing on with his story as he did so.   
  
“But she was sweet, and Jack never minded her company either, really, when she was in. And she came ‘round here for dinner or tea every once in a while. Though, she had us over at her place more so. Wonderful cook. Could whip up a roast that would knock your socks off, but I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that.”   
  
Richard suddenly thought it was bittersweet, hearing stories about his mother. He of course did know of her impeccable culinary skills, but it was strange to know he wasn’t the only one who’d experienced them. He felt a bit ashamed, not even thinking his mother would have friends like this that had their own fond memories of her.   
  
“Indeed you don’t,” Richard replied with a melancholy smile, taking his tea cup from Mr. Vogel. “I actually found a box while mucking about the house yesterday. She’d written down pages and pages of recipes. I’d be happy to pass any along if you’d like. If it wouldn’t be stepping on your missus’ toes.”   
  
Mr. Vogel chuckled again, but it had a bit of nervousness behind it this time.   
  
“Well, I haven’t got one, actually,” he said, taken an interest in watching himself stir more sugar into his own cup. “So, no toes to be trod on then.”   
  
Ah.   
  
Richard sat back more comfortably in his seat, thinking of how to move forward. If he should try and address the hunch he suddenly had.   
  
He’d assumed the  _ us _ entertaining his mother was Vogel and his wife… but thinking back on it, there would have surely been a name listed next to his in his mother’s address book if he’d had one. Of course, Mr. Vogel could be a widower.    
  
However, he’d only been talking about  _ Jack _ so far. Been in business together for over forty years. Mentioned retiring  _ together _ . They were  _ partners _ . Perhaps not only in business.   
  
Richard decided to take a shot in the dark, preparing to take a hit of his own.   
  
“Nothing wrong with that,” he replied coolly. “I’m a bachelor myself. Not such a bad position to be in, really.”   
  
Mr. Vogel met his gaze again, quirking an eyebrow up. The same smiley eyes showed themselves again.   
  
“Is that so?” he questioned to make Richard continue.   
  
“Well, you know,” Richard said, smirking a bit himself after seeing Mr. Vogel’s expression. “Might as well enjoy some freedom, Mr. Vogel. Since the right girl never came along.”   
  
Oldest clue in the book.   
  
The other man laughed in earnest now, seeming to catch the hint.   
  
“Oh please, call me Alexander,” he said, his voice a bit brighter now. “Or Sascha. That’s what my friends call me.”   
  
Richard smiled back fully now. Feeling a bit sure of himself.   
  
“Friends like Jack?” he asked, knowing it was a bit forward. But at this point…   
  
Mr. Vogel - Sascha - nodded. His face didn’t show he was offended by it.   
  
“We’ve been on a… Christian name basis for some time,” he replied.   
  
The main door creaked open once again, making both men turn.   
  
“Well, speak of the devil,” Sascha said, grinning even wider.   
  
The man who had just come in - Jack, Richard assumed - looked between the two of them a bit puzzled.   
  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize we - or, um, that there was company over,” he said, obviously trying to cover for his “slip up” in saying  _ they _ had company.   
  
Jack (decidedly, with that comment) was more lanky than his partner. He was closer to Richard’s own height, and slenderer. As he took off his hat, it showed that he was clearly greying, but had more of a salt and pepper quality to his hair compared to Sascha’s own stark silver. He also wore round glasses that covered the dark circles under his eyes. Otherwise, he didn’t have much of a wrinkle on his face, making him look a bit younger than he was. Most likely a benefit to working indoors.   
  
“This is Jane Ellis’ son,” Sascha explained quickly, then turned back to Richard. “Mr. Ellis, this is my partner, Jack Harris.”   
  
Richard stood and gave his hand to shake.   
  
“Richard,” he corrected, seeing as everyone else was being casual with their own names. “Pleased to meet you.”   
  
Jack clasped his hand firmly, but held it more so than shook it.   
  
“Oh, dear, I do apologize,” he said, giving Richard a sad look. “I would have been at the service today, but we needed someone to look over the shop this morning.”   
  
“Didn’t  _ need _ to,” Richard heard Sascha grumble into his teacup.   
  
“It’s quite alright, we all have our own responsibilities to attend to,” Richard replied, ignoring the quip.   
  
The other man didn’t let it go, however.   
  
“If we’re so busy today, why are you up here?” Sascha nagged.    
  
“I’ve closed for lunch,” Jack replied pointedly, taking an open spot on the couch next to Richard. “You’re welcome to take my place if you’d rather we didn’t.”   
  
Sascha faltered at that, leaning back and sipping his tea.    
  
“Not particularly,” he admitted.   
  
“Well, then. Glad we’re in agreement,” Jack said definitively.   
  
Richard had to stifle a snicker at the pair bickering, quite literally, like an old couple. The thought of Thomas and himself doing the same some years down the road crossed his mind. If they would ever have the chance to.   
  
“Well, I was just telling Richard here,” Sascha continued. “About how we’ve been thinking to  _ sell _ the store. It would give you more time to put your feet up like this, you know.”   
  
“Oh lord,” Jack said with a sigh, turning to Richard himself. “I’m sorry he got you on  _ that _ topic.”   
  
“I’m just saying -”   
  
“No, I hear what you’ve been saying,” Jack interrupted. “But the truth of it is, there doesn’t seem to be much interest, Sascha. And you know how I feel about the ones who have been interested.”   
  
“Oh, you haven’t even given them a chance.”   
  
“They don’t deserve one. They all just want a job, but they don’t know how to  _ run _ anything. If a man can’t hold his own, he’ll be out of business before the end of the year.”   
  
A lightbulb went off above Richard’s head.   
  
He knew someone who knew how to take charge of an operation. Someone who’s been his own boss for a number of years now. Someone who was good with numbers, taking stock.   
  
Someone who if Richard could sway him would be looking to shift gears.   
  
“Actually, as it so happens,” Richard started, butting into what was soon going to become a quarrel between the other two men. “A mate and I are considering a change in career ourselves. We’re not businessmen by any means, but there’s some crossover in duties from our current work.”   
  
Jack sat back, looking at him pointedly, unsure.   
  
“And what do you do?”   
  
“Well, we’re both in service,” Richard said, praying they wouldn’t look down on that. “My friend is a butler at an estate here in Yorkshire. He runs a right ship, makes his own orders for whatever’s needed, keeps his own books and finances for the house. Is in charge of employment for the rest of the staff. During the war, he was in the medical corps, and they’d turned the house into a convalescent home. Ran the whole thing himself.”   
  
Jack nodded, not showing any thoughts about the proposal, if he had any.   
  
“And yourself?”   
  
Richard shrugged.    
  
“I’ll admit, I’m a bit less impressive,” he said. “I’m a valet at Buckingham Palace. To His Majesty the King.”   
  
He didn’t mind pulling the employer card in this situation. It was really all he had to pull.   
  
But Sascha scoffed at him.   
  
“You call that  _ less _ impressive, son?” he asked. “My God, your mother never mentioned what exactly you were doing in London.”   
  
Jack actually looked close to satisfied, too.   
  
“Why are you looking to leave a job like that?” he inquired.   
  
Richard instead looked back to Sascha, who already knew the score with him.   
  
“My mate and I… have been rather close for a few years now,” he said, speaking slowly, trying to lay the words on thick. “Figured we’d make the change together since we were both contemplating a change of pace.”   
  
“Well,” Sascha said, speaking in the same manner as Richard, but pointing his gaze to his own partner. “We know a thing or two about that, don’t we Jack?”   
  
Jack nodded back, a smile starting to show.   
  
“Indeed we do.”   
  
He looked back to Richard.   
  
“Would you be serious about… moving forward on this offer?”   
  
“Well, I’d have to talk it over with him,” Richard said. “But I would be, nonetheless, even if he’s apprehensive.”   
  
Jack folded his arms, and looked between the other two men.   
  
“Talk to your... friend,” he said, drawing the words out as he thought it over. “Maybe we can work something out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope yall don't mind the excess OC dialogue. (I like these two though old dudes tho) 
> 
> But the next chapter will be exclusively that Thomas/Richard content yall came for lol


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard presents his case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhhhHHHHNNNNN this chapter's word count got way out of hand, too. About 3k more than average......... i love to write about Sadness And Struggle

**1928\. Two Years Prior.  
  
** Richard leaned closer into Thomas, pressing their foreheads together before angling his face to meet his lips. He gasped between kisses that were deep, but slow and much less fervent than anything they had been doing just moments ago.   


He pulled back to catch his breath, getting a better look at the man spread underneath him. He threaded his fingers in Thomas’ hair that had fallen across his face in sweaty strands, pushing it back away from his eyes and smiling at the sight.   
  
Thomas, breathless himself, mirrored his expression.   
  
“What?”   
  
“Just look at you,” Richard replied, airy and quiet. He traced his hand down the side of his cheek, cupping his jaw. “Stunning.”   
  
Thomas chuckled, looking away, trying to bury his face in the pillow.   
  
“I can hardly look  _ stunning _ just now.”   
  
“Beg to differ.”   
  
Richard closed the distance again, turning Thomas’ face to place another kiss on his lips, more gently this time, before rolling over to lay on his back next to the other man.   
  
He sighed and closed his eyes, feeling around to his side. His hand found Thomas’ gloved one, and he laced their fingers together to bring them clasped to his chest.   
  
Thomas laughed again, more outwardly this time, but still breathy.   
  
“What now?” Richard asked playfully, opening his eyes and looking toward Thomas.   
  
“You always do this,” Thomas said lightly, humor in his tone. He looked back over to meet Richard’s gaze. “The first thing you do, without fail, after  _ fucking _ me… his hold my damn hand.”   
  
He was laughing again.   
  
“It’s just so… innocent… compared to the rest of it.”   
  
Richard looked up at the ceiling, now laughing himself. It was a bit ridiculous, when he put it like that.   
  
“And what of it?” he said in (almost) fake defense. “I like holding your hand. You have a problem with that?”

Thomas sobered a bit at that, but he was still smiling.   
  
“No. I’ll admit, I actually enjoy it,” he said. “‘S not like we can do it anywhere else.”   
  
Richard looked over again, smiling back at him, but a little more somber.   
  
“However,” Thomas continued. “You still are silly for doing it.”   
  
Richard rolled onto his side, letting go of Thomas for a brief moment only to pick his hand back up with his opposite hand.   
  
“Oh, I’m silly?” he questioned, mocking annoyance. “And what about you over there, giggling like a schoolgirl?   
  
Thomas rolled over as well, so they were again face to face. His smile was now more of a smirk, mischievous.   
  
“And do  _ you _ have a problem with  _ that _ ?”   
  
“No,” Richard replied matter-of-factly. “I love your smile.”   
  
He returned his free hand to Thomas’ cheek, running a thumb near the corner of his mouth.   
  
“You don’t show it off as much as you ought to.”   
  
Thomas would have blushed if he weren’t already red-faced from their prior activities.   
  
“Don’t mind showing it off to you.”   
  
Richard grinned. “And how lucky I am for it.”   
  
He scooched even closer to Thomas to kiss him again. Thomas smiled against it at first before lazily returning it.   
  
He shifted back into the mattress, pulling Richard by the arm so his weight was on top of him once again.   
  
Richard moved his way from Thomas’ mouth to his jaw, then his neck, his kisses feather light as to not leave a mark that would be hard to explain come tomorrow.   
  
Thomas sighed into the touch, reaching up to play with the small hairs on the back of Richard’s neck.   
  
“God, don’t make me leave in the morning.”   
  
Richard stopped, but kept his face buried between Thomas’ neck and shoulder blade.   
  
“Fine then,” he said softly, his breath hot against Thomas’ skin. “Run away with me.”   
  
Thomas chuckled again, closing his eyes and relaxing into the pillow as Richard resumed.   
  
“If only.”   
  
Richard now pulled back enough to look at him.   
  
“I’m serious,” he said, feigning a tone that matched the statement. “We’ll skip your train back to Downton, hitch a ride on another one in the opposite direction and just take it wherever it goes.”   
  
Thomas smiled tight lipped, bringing his hand to rest in the crook of Richard’s collarbone.   
  
“Do you ever think they’ll be a day when we don’t have to worry about all the transport?” he asked quietly. “Where there’s nothing taking us back to our separate lives?”   
  
Richard let out a breath, faltering off his jokes and bringing on an  _ actual _ serious expression.   
  
“I don’t know,” he said just as quietly. “Probably not... but I hope there will be. I imagine sometimes just waking up to you - like on a weekend, a proper one - and we don’t even think about getting out of bed. We’d just lie there and let the sun rise before we do.”   
  
Thomas’ smile returned at that, a bit sadder than it was before, but his eyes bright, imagining it himself.   
  
“And how do we afford such a luxury in this little fantasy of yours?”   
  
“Like I said, we could’ve ran away,” Richard said sheepishly. “Off to set up a new life, in some place of our own.”   
  
He hadn’t admitted that he thought about it to Thomas before. It was just as he said, a little fantasy, but some part of him thought of it as more than that.   
  
A commitment. Some sense of permanence in… whatever they wanted to call their relationship. They’d never thought of a word for what they were to each other, but it didn’t matter much since they didn’t have to tell anyone. Couldn’t tell anyone.   
  
But whatever it was, he knew it was real. They’d only seen each other in person a handful of times since the royal visit a year ago, but from what they’d written and what they’d already promised each other, it was clear this was something to hold onto.   
  
“Some place of our own,” Thomas repeated.   
  
Richard was glad to see him smiling as he said it.   
  
“You know, a flat or something... in a town where we could…” he trailed off for a moment, trying to find the right way to put it. He wanted to say ’be ourselves,’ but in all honesty that couldn’t happen much of anywhere. “Be comfortable.”   
  
Now it was Thomas who took Richard’s hand, and brought it up to kiss the back of it chastely.    
  
“I might like the sound of that.”   
  
“Yeah?”   
  
“I like the sound of going anywhere with you, Richard,” Thomas said. “Just say when and where and I’d be there to follow.”   
  
Thomas slung his arms around Richard’s neck, pulling him back to his lips.

* * *

  
**1929\. One Year Prior.** **  
** **  
** “It was just as if - I mean I felt  _ liberated _ in a way,” Thomas said, taking another swig of some cheap wine Richard had snuck in for them to share. “I mean you still had to be careful, of course. The law’s not much different so it didn’t mean folks weren’t afraid, but… there was almost a  _ pride _ in it, in a way. That you were part of some elusive club.”   
  
He sat forward in his chair, putting his elbows to his knees. They had pulled his desk chair around to the other side, so they could sit properly across from each other in the butler’s pantry.   
  
It was probably much too late to still be up chatting. The other staff members had gone off to bed or headed home ages ago.    
  
Richard had saved his time off to pull together two straight days away from the palace, but Thomas wasn’t as lucky. So instead of their usual rendezvous of renting a room in some town halfway from each of them, Richard opted to come all the way up to Downton to spend the evening.   
  
They’d made up a spare room for him in the men’s quarters, but he wouldn’t get much use of it other than having a place to set his luggage and get dressed in the morning.   
  
“Not that I partook in all the - well, you know - shows or clubs or what have you,” Thomas said, waving a hand flippantly at the thought. “But it was there. Could’ve if I wanted. I still had my own fun with all of it.”   
  
Richard laughed at him. He’d heard most of these stories of Thomas’ time in New York before, but now that he had some alcohol in him, he was a little more liberal with the details.   
  
“You mean you had fun with that  _ Mr. Walter Cook _ ,” he teased.   
  
Thomas wagged a finger at him.   
  
“Now,” he scolded. “You said if I told you, you wouldn’t get jealous.”   
  
Richard scoffed, as if he took offense at the accusation.   
  
“Who says I’m jealous?”   
  
“Your  _ tone _ ,” Thomas drawled, trying to sound angry, but he was smiling behind it.   
  
“I’m only curious,” Richard retorted, smiling himself and trying to rile the other man up. “I’m sure you and Mr. Cook made a lovely pair.”   
  
Thomas scoffed at that, genuinely.   
  
“Honestly, he was just fine. Nothing to write home about,” he said, leaning back again. “He was fun though, like I said. Rather think he was more fond of me than I was of him.”   
  
“Is that so?” Richard continued to tease, reaching for more of the wine himself.   
  
“Said he liked my ‘accent,’” Thomas continued, turning his nose up at the word. “I didn’t care much for his though. Like yours far better.”   
  
“My  _ accent _ ?” Richard chuckled.   
  
He knew he had one however, hailing from where he did. Of course, he sounded normal to himself, but he’d been told otherwise many times before so it must be true.   
  
“I like your…” Thomas gestured vaguely in his direction. “Everything far better.”   
  
“Well, I’m glad to hear I’m a mark above your foreign dalliance,” Richard joked, knocking his foot into Thomas’.   
  
“I did enjoy being over in the states altogether,” Thomas continued. “Actually thought if I had the money or means or knowledge of how to go about it, I’d move over there myself.”   
  
That was new information.   
  
“Really?”   
  
Thomas shrugged.    
  
“Used to be a bit obsessed with the idea of getting out of here. This town, I mean,” he said nonchalantly. “I’d only ever lived here and the village I grew up in. That is - if you don’t count the Somme as living elsewhere. Also with all the… job insecurity here. Don’t have to remind you they’ve tried to run me out a few times.”   
  
“Do you still feel that at times?” Richard asked just as casually. “The need to jump ship?”

It wasn’t the first time they had discussed the topic of careers and moving and Thomas’ rollercoaster of a time at Downton. In a job, out of the job, back in, dabbling in different things here and there. But Richard didn’t know how he felt about it all currently. Whenever he talked about work, it was just that. A job to be done, day in day out. For a paycheck, but not much more.   
  
“From the town or the work?” Thomas asked.   
  
“Either or.”   
  
Thomas took a long drink, thinking it over.   
  
“Not as much,” he supplied. “I suppose I don’t mind it all now. Since it’s steady. Downton doesn’t have much to offer for _ fun _ though.”   
  
Another drink.   
  
“I think if I could have ended up anywhere, I would have still liked to set up shop in New York. It was modern, and not just in the… philosophy of the people or fashion or entertainment. Even the architecture seemed new and exciting. The politics. It had a way of keeping up with the times that we can’t seem to grasp over here.”   
  
“You’re the opposite of an old soul, then,” Richard supplied.   
  
“If you want to think of it like that,” Thomas said. “And what about you?”   
  
Richard smirked at him as he refilled his partner’s glass.   
  
“About me?”   
  
Thomas smirked back. He sunk a bit deeper in his chair, and slipped his shoes off by stepping on the heel so he could rest his feet across Richard’s lap.   
  
“Where would you want to live? If you could go anywhere in the world?”   
  
Richard laughed, both at the question and Thomas’ new position, which couldn’t be as comfortable as he was trying to make it. He made a mental note to remember how this man handled a bit of wine in him for future reference.   
  
“I’m not telling.”   
  
“And why not?”   
  
Because he already knew the answer, and that Thomas would only poke fun at it.   
  
“You’ll find it dull.”   
  
“Well now I’m just as intrigued,” Thomas teased.   
  
“No.”   
  
“Yes,” Thomas pressed. “I told you mine, you have to tell me yours.”   
  
Richard set his glass down on the desk firmly and sat up straighter.   
  
“Alright,” he said definitively. “I’d want to move back to York.”   
  
Thomas raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side.   
  
“York?”   
  
“York.”   
  
Thomas set his own glass down and bit his lip, but it didn’t hide the fact that he was already starting to laugh.   
  
“Now why, pray tell, is that your top choice?”   
  
“I’m afraid it’s for the exact opposite reason as to why you’d want to move to  _ New _ York,” Richard replied. “It’s familiar. I’ve had my adventures in larger cities, and I don’t need anymore. And granted I don’t get out in London much anymore, outside the palace that is... but it’s still loud and crowded… dirty in some places. And I don’t think I could do somewhere as small as here, either. I want a nice, happy middle. Somewhere where there’s still things to do, things to see, but it wouldn’t keep me up at night or… take hours just to get across town.”   
  
Thomas nodded, encouraging him to continue.   
  
“Mum’s still there, too, and it’s not like she’s getting any younger,” Richard added. “And she lives alone. There are friends and neighbors and the like to help her out if she needs, but I do wish I could be there for her more often. If anything, just for the company. We would probably both gain something from that.”   
  
Thomas folded his hands on his lap and lifted his chin to look at Richard down the bridge of his nose, smiling.   
  
“Well, you’re right, it is rather dull,” he said.   
  
Richard gave a single breathy laugh.   
  
“See, I knew you’d say that -”   
  
“But,” Thomas continued, holding up a hand to stop him. “It’s also very sweet. Hearing it from you.”   
  
Richard’s mouth curled at the end.   
  
“You think I’m sweet?”   
  
“When you put it in those terms, I could probably see myself living there. Sounds like a nice little balance between everything.”   
  
Richard was full on grinning now.   
  
“Didn’t think you cared for it. After your… history there... at the very least..”   
  
“Well, I wouldn’t mind it if you were there with me,” Thomas said, looking like he was trying to stifle his own smile.   
  
Richard just looked at him for a moment, feeling giddy at the idea of that.   
  
“You mean that. Don’t you?” he asked, a bit quieter than before.   
  
Thomas almost looked affronted.   
  
“‘Course I do,” he replied. “It’s a nice thought, living with someone I love as much as you. I told you once you were stuck with me forever. This way I could make sure of it.”   
  
Richard pulled Thomas’ legs off of him, leaning forward to close the distance between them. Thomas got the hint, and met him halfway to meet the gentle kiss, smiling into it.   
  
“Say that again,” Richard whispered.   
  
Thomas almost giggled, but obliged because he knew what part needed repeating.   
  
“I love you. Very much.”   
  
Richard kissed him again.   
  
“And one more time.”   
  
Now Thomas did laugh.   
  
“Richard.”   
  
“I enjoy hearing you say it, is that so wrong?” he teased, still not far from his lips.   
  
“Y’know, I might like hearing it back.”   
  
Richard laughed in return, but Thomas stopped him with a kiss of his own.   
  
They pulled apart, Richard tracing his fingers down Thomas’ arm before landing in his hand.   
  
“I love you, too, Thomas.”   
  
Thomas squeezed his hand back.   
  
“See? You are sweet. Even if I have to pry it out of you.”   
  


* * *

  1. **Present Day.**



Thomas’ corner of the world had, for the most part, stopped spinning so rapidly. The questions and condolences for his faux plight had died down over the course of the week, allowing him to go back to acting like his normal self.

Lady Mary hadn’t approached him about the matter after her presentation of facts, which he hoped was a sign that Baxter was right, and that she truly didn’t care to use it as an ace up her sleeve. Still, he was wary of her, feeling a twinge of anxiety any time she rang for him. He found himself wishing she had never revealed what she learned. If she hadn’t, at least he wouldn’t be walking on eggshells everyday.

His worries about Richard were somewhat quelled after he received a letter from him after his return to London. He hadn’t written much about his final days in York without him, other than everything wrapped up just fine, all things considered. He mentioned meeting up with a couple of his mother’s old friends, who were able to share stories and memories.    
  
_ “That’s really all we want in the end, isn’t it?” _ he’d written.  _ “To be remembered and live on through others when our own time is up. I know that’s not much of an original thought, but it’s been on my mind since that meeting. It’s a comfort to know I’ll be able to give her what’s due to all of us.” _

Thomas was glad to find Richard wasn’t completely alone without him, if even just for the day. As lonely as Thomas thought he himself was, Richard was even more so it seemed. He never let on to the feeling, but Thomas knew he wasn’t friends with the other staff at the palace, even though they were all pleasant enough to each other. He also didn’t get out enough to meet other folks. So to see him comfortable to confide in another fellow was a relief.

He sat at his desk, finishing his own letter in return late at night. Not much substance in it on his end, deciding to not put his own worries onto Richard as he was only just getting back to work and some sense of normality himself.

As Thomas was about to sign off on the paper, the telephone rang. At this hour, he had one guess as to who it could be.   
  
Regardless, he answered all the same.   
  
“Downton Abbey, this is Mr. Barrow the butler speaking.”   
  
“Evening Mr. Barrow. Hope I’m not disturbing. This is Mr. Ellis calling,” Richard answered playfully.   
  
Thomas smiled, happy to hear the bright tone in the other man’s voice.   
  
“I thought it would be, but one can never be too careful  _ Mr. Ellis. _ ”   
  
Richard chuckled on the other end.   
  
“I figured you’d still be awake,” he said. “Just wanted to let you know I’d made it back alright, now that I’ve found the time to call.”   
  
“I actually just got your letter saying so this morning,” Thomas replied casually. “But it’s nice to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth.”   
  
He took a beat, then asked more seriously, “Are you taking care of yourself like you promised? Holding up alright?”   
  
“I believe so,” Richard said, genuinely sounding sure of it. “I need to tell you something, actually.”   
  
“Oh?”   
  
Richard didn’t sound too grave about it, but Thomas couldn’t help feeling a tad nervous nonetheless. The last phone conversation they had proved to be nothing but bad news.   
  
“Promise you won’t be angry with me,” Richard added hastily at Thomas’ hesitation.   
  
There was the shoe he was waiting to drop.   
  
“Depends,” Thomas drawled. “Is this something worth getting angry over?”   
  
“I shouldn’t think so,” Richard said, back to being nonchalant. “But I’m not sure what you’ll think about it.”   
  
“Well, now you’ve got me more curious than anything,” Thomas said, trying and failing to sound as collected as the other man.   
  
“I suppose I should just say it then,” Richard decided.    
  
But there was a pause, indicating he was, in fact, just as unsure of the matter as Thomas.   
  
“I’m going to be handing in my notice,” he finally said with a sigh. “There’s an opportunity that’s presented itself back in York… and I’m going to take it.”   
  
The reveal hit like a ton of bricks. It definitely wasn’t what Thomas expected to hear tonight.   
  
He had a million questions. What sort of opportunity? Why so soon? How did this happen? Why didn’t they talk this over beforehand? Is he feeling alright?   
  
But all he landed on was:   
  
“What do you mean?”   
  
“You said you read my letter?” Richard continued, tiptoeing around the subject. “Do you recall the bit about the grocers? The friends of my mother’s?”   
  
“I do,” Thomas supplied, not quite sure of the connection between the two topics at hand.   
  
“They’re selling their store. Looking to hand the reins of the business over to someone else so they can retire,” Richard explained. “I… told them I’d be interested. We’ve been in contact over the last few days and we’ve struck up a deal of sorts.”   
  
Thomas was only more taken aback than he was to begin with. He’d told Richard to let his life get back to normal, not to overthink anything right now, promise not to make rash decisions. This was the exact opposite of all that.   
  
“What are you saying?” he asked. “You’re just going to… up and leave? Just like that? Off to start a new career after meeting these people one time? Can you even afford it?”  
  
He was being to reel away.  
  
“If I sell the house I can,” Richard answered for just the last question, attentive to Thomas’ anxious tone.   
  
“Have you thought about this Richard?” Thomas continued. “I mean,  _ really _ thought about it?”   
  
He huffed, incredulous of what he was hearing.   
  
“Do you honestly want to do that? Because when I was last with you, all you could talk about was that house. Getting me to come _ live _ there with you -”   
  
“It was never about the house itself, Thomas,” Richard butted in, trying to explain himself. “It was about a chance for  _ us _ to get out. There’s a flat open above the shop that they rent out, and they said they could include it in the cost of everything if we’d like. This is that out, love… A - a job, a home, some security. It’s everything.”   
  
“So this is for both of us, is it?” Thomas asked, his voice teetering on the verge of becoming angry. Like Richard had all but predicted him to be.   
  
“It could be,” Richard said quietly, seeming to try and be soothing. “I’d like it to be.”   
  
Thomas sighed, trying to not sound as riled up as he felt.   
  
“I told you I had to think about it.”   
  
“What is there to think about, though?” Richard asked in the same placid manner. “We’ve talked about this. We’ve wanted this. Or at least I thought you did as much as I do.”   
  
“We’ve dreamed, Richard,” Thomas said, sounding defeated. “But it’s different when reality is staring you in the face. When there’s more on the line than… happiness. It’s not as easy as saying we want it so we’ll get it.”   
  
He thought back to what Baxter had told him.  _ “You think… it has to be purchased.” _ _   
_ _   
_ Didn’t it though? To make the one person he truly loved feel  _ happy _ and  _ good  _ he had to lay down his whole life? Risk being tossed in jail again just for trying to live as anyone else in the world had a right to live? Risk throwing away any progress he made in his personal life? In his career? In his well being?   
  
“You think I don’t know that?” Richard said, his patience wearing thin. “I know the risks and the challenges ahead. But there’s less to be afraid of here. These men are  _ like us _ , love. They’re not going to sell us out to anyone. We would be  _ safe _ . It would work.”   
  
“I only want you to think about it all,” Thomas said. “We’re not businessmen. We don’t know much more than the next fellow about all of this.”   
  
“I’ve done nothing but think about this, Thomas. That’s why I’ve made a deal with them,” Richard argued. “They would give us some time to figure it all out. They’re willing to help in the beginning. Actually, they’re insistent on it. They’re good people.”   
  
“You did this all without  _ asking _ , though,” Thomas snapped, finally having it out. “You asked me to consider ‘making it work together,’ but you haven’t given me the chance. You decided what was good for me yourself. Well, what if I don’t  _ want _ this?”   
  
The line was silent again apart from the slight static coming through the receiver.   
  
“Why not?” Richard asked finally, his voice barely above a whisper. It didn’t sound angry or comforting. Just… an inquiry.   
  
“Because…” Thomas started, still heated. “Because I don’t think _you’ll_ want it once you’re actually with me.”   
  
Another pause as he breathed a bit more, willing himself to cool down, only a smidgen.   
  
“Anytime something good comes my way, I fuck it up,” he said. “You don’t deserve that. You deserve… to be able to find your own happiness without me. And as long as I’m away from you, physically at the very least... I can’t be responsible for the potential… downfall of any of this. I’m not worth risking everything for, Richard. I don’t want you to be stuck forever in a sham of a relationship with your lover who can’t treat you right.   
  
“I’m just… like this. I get angry out of nowhere. Or sad. Or I panic. It’s not worth dealing with for the rest of your life.”   
  
Richard just hummed over the phone.    
  
“Might I get to decide that for myself?”   
  
Thomas doesn’t respond. Of course he can, but he can think of a million other reasons why he shouldn’t.   
  
“Right,” Richard said after a few moments of silence. “Since you’ve had your say, can I at least have mine?”   
  
Thomas breathed in, suddenly taking notice of how shaky he was.   
  
“Alright then.”   
  
Richard took a pause of his own, unclear if it was more for his own sake or Thomas’.

“I’m realizing now... that forever isn’t real,” Richard said as if he were also taking in his own words for the first time. “The universe has given us all a certain amount of time, but we don’t get to see the countdown.”   
  
Thomas could hear a deep breath on the other end of the line, but he found himself holding his own.   
  
“And I’m terrified that the number given to me isn’t in my favor,” he managed to continue steadily, though it sounded forced. “My father died young, and it feels as though my mother was robbed of some years. I might’ve been gifted the same lot. In the end.”   
  
_ “You don’t know that,” _ Thomas wants to say. But he says nothing instead. Richard has asked for his chance to speak, and though it’s a pain to hear, he has to allow it.   
  
“So, I’m worried that we’ll lose our chance to make what we have… the best it can be,” Richard muttered, quiet now. Almost seeming embarrassed. “Not that it’s not good now. But… I think we both know it could be better. Because it’s not easy... with the distance... and the time we can allot to seeing each other, and the  _ hiding.” _   
  
Another pause. Thomas nodded on his end, as if Richard could see it as a prompt to go on.   
  
“And perhaps you’re right,” he added, his voice rising a bit to indicate he was giving Thomas the benefit of the doubt. “It might not be easy, still. Actually, it probably won’t be. When have folks like us ever gotten off easy in life? But it might just be _ easier. _ And that might be enough for me because…”   
  
He sighed again, but this time as if he was trying to catch his breath.    
  
“It  _ hurts _ , Thomas. It hurts to love you. It hurts to not be able to speak to you when I need you… or - or hold you after a long day. I can’t comfort you on those days where your head gets ahead of you, and you can’t even tell me you love me whenever I need to be reminded. I’m tired of desperately clinging onto you for only a night at a time because who knows when I’ll get to even just lie with you again.   
  
“It’s hard, love. It’s worth it, but it’s so damn painful at times… I love you, and I believe I always will love you, but I’m terrified it’ll get to the point soon where that pain becomes more of a cross to bear than the love. And when that happens I don’t know if I can continue on. I don’t want to give this pain a chance to ruin us.”   
  
Richard put a punctuated end to his speech, and the silence that followed was even harder to hear.    
  
Thomas sat quietly, soaking in the words as they floated around him. Their meaning quickly turning from troubled to sardonic, mocking him for not considering Richard would also be hurting. Just in a different way.   
  
He unfortunately wasn’t alone in the sentiment. Thomas had felt most of it at some point. The possible imminent end to everything they had built together hung over them like a rain cloud.   
  
Perhaps Richard was right. That cloud could start a thunderstorm any day.    
  
Or maybe it was starting to drizzle.  
  
As the silence grew even more uncomfortable, Thomas realized this was probably his cue to respond. To say something that hopefully wouldn’t fuck this up any more than he already had.   
  
“I don’t want to ruin us either,” he nearly whispered into the receiver.   
  
“Then don’t,” Richard said, still quiet but with a bit of a bite behind the words. “Let me at least try and give you as much of a forever as I can.”   
  
“How do I let you?” Thomas asked meekly.   
  
“Just… have some trust in me,” Richard said. “Come and see the place at the very least.”   
  
“I… don’t think I’ll be able to get time off anytime soon.”   
  
“I know, but, when you can. Doesn’t matter when,” he added. “Will you do that for me? Please.”   
  
Thomas let out a breath. “Alright.”   
  
“Yeah?”   
  
“Yeah,” Thomas said softly, letting the confirmation hover. “But I can’t - I won’t promise anything. I still need to… figure it all out. For myself.”

“I know,” was all Richard said, sounding morose.   
  
Thomas knew he should have probably said more to let Richard know they were okay, that he believes this will all be fine.   
  
But he doesn’t do any of that.   
  
“It’s getting late,” is all he can muster.   
  
“Right,” Richard said again. “I’ll say goodnight then.”   
  
Thomas thinks he’d gone to hang up, but then hears him again.   
  
“I do mean it… when I say I’ll always love you.”   
  
Thomas manages a sad smile at that, even though Richard can’t see.    
  
“I love you, too. For as long as our forever is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for more SufferingTM
> 
> next chapter is much less angry/depressing


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sascha and Jack share some of their history. Thomas gets some advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recap if you forget what's happened last chapter because I've taken over two weeks to update and you don't feel like rereading yeehaw:
> 
> -Lil bit of backstory showing how they've discussed a future where they're TOGETHER together - Richard being serious about the prospect but shadowing it behind jokes and stories - Thomas viewing it as nice in theory, but impossible in practice. Richard thought they were on the same page but in hindsight they Were Not  
> -Richard establishing in the past that he'd like to end up back in his hometown, Thomas not really having an outlook bc he focuses on the day-to-day monotony of Downton, but appreciated that Richard does have those long-term aspirations  
> -Richard dropped the news that he's going to start/take on business in York through Sascha and Jack. Thomas is Not Pleased/Worried/Terrified  
> -Thomas admits that he doesn't believe it would work out because he thinks he'll be an extra weight on Richard's shoulders (among other things). Richard is like, "ok youre not tho and also it already sucks that i can barely talk to you and see you so why not at least try like i dont want to break up with you but also im afraid i might if it Continues To Suck"  
> -Thomas agrees to at least visit Richard in York to feel things out
> 
> and that's where it leaves us now!

“Are you sure you’re ready for tomorrow?”   
  
Ms. Baxter and Thomas were the only ones in the servants’ hall in the mid-afternoon, each finding some rare spare time before tea would be served upstairs. Thomas had taken up the newspaper, but was barely glossing it over as Baxter made conversation.   
  
He glanced over at her above the pages, keeping his expression level.   
  
“As I’ll ever be, I suppose.”   
  
Tomorrow’s event in question being two nights in York again. A promise made to Richard months ago now, that he would come and see the shop and flat that had become his   


Richard had given his notice a few weeks after telling Thomas he was going to do so, then it took a few months yet to find a buyer for the house, and move the furniture and belongings he wanted to keep to the new place.

Through all of it, he already had started working at the store alongside Jack and Sascha, and began paying for the place on installments. Though everything else still made him terribly anxious, Thomas was glad to find that the pair Richard was working with seemed to be, just as he said, good and understanding people   


After their initial conversation about the matter, Thomas received a letter from Richard that contained an apology of all things, for essentially roping Thomas into the whole situation before discussing it with him first. Saying he was sorry for assuming his feelings, dismissing his qualms.   
  
_ “If I’m to wish for us to be a team, I realize now I have to allow you to be a player,” _ the letter read.  _ “I still would like very much to move forward in my promise, and you know I’d like for it to be a part of our life. Not just mine. I want you to be a part of the conversation.  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “However, you also must allow me to talk to you in return. There can’t be so much as a bright future ahead if we hold each other in the dark.” _

Fair was fair in that regard. Thomas had written back with what could resemble an apology of his own, for not trusting Richard knew what was best for himself at the very least. If the decision, as sudden as it was, made him happy, and Richard played the right cards, Thomas could hardly stop him. He could only hope there was no buyer’s remorse when it was all said and done.

Still, things were unsteady. Richard had stopped pushing for Thomas to make a decision of his own recently, and Thomas couldn’t quite figure if he counted that as a good or bad thing. It was nice to have the breathing space, and to weigh his options on his own. On the contrary, he was afraid Richard had accepted defeat. Lost what he had been hoping for.   
  
To be honest, Thomas hadn’t given him as much as an inkling that there was something worth longing for anymore. But it seemed that hope was what was keeping Richard tethered to him.   
  
_ “ _ _ It’s worth it, but it’s so damn painful at times,” _ he’d said.   
  
Thomas couldn’t deny that although he had to agree, it didn’t make it any less painful to hear. And even more painful to replay in his head nearly constantly ever since the words were spoken.   
  
He himself thought that a few months was enough to come to some sort of conclusion, and yet he was still empty handed.   
  
“I think it’s good you’re still visiting,” Ms. Baxter said. “You do owe him that much at the very least.”   
  
Thomas folded his paper over so only one panel separated the two of them.   
  
“The  _ very _ least,” he agreed. “But he deserves more than that, I believe.”   
  
Thomas had been dragging his feet over the trip, too. Been saving up his time, no mistake, but had to prompted a second time by Richard to form the plans. Which was also worrying. Any other time, Thomas would have readily jumped at the chance for even an afternoon together. With the way so many things were still up in the air, though, he dreaded what might come at the end of it.   
  
Baxter pursed her lips and dragged her eyes away from him to focus on the cup of tea in front of her.   
  
“Probably,” she said. “Hopefully this will give you some answers, though. Even if they’re not the answers he wants… at least you’d both know where it all stands.”   
  
Thomas only gave her a sad look and a nod before resuming his browse over the news.   
  
“Just… be gentle. If you need to let him down,” she continued. “You’d want the same, if the roles were reversed.”   
  
“I think he’s already feeling a bit let down,” Thomas replied, not looking up. “Not sure how much I could soften the blow. Would be like kicking him when he’s down.”   
  
Baxter tensed a bit. “You say that as if you’d already made up your mind on the matter.”   
  
Thomas didn’t reply.   
  
“Have you, then?”   
  
He folded his paper up completely, laying it on the table as he spoke.   
  
“No, not exactly. But I am starting to think if I were to come bringing good news, I would’ve already done it.”   
  
He shrugged, looking at her more sincerely now.   
  
“Perhaps that’s a sign.”   
  
“Not sure I believe in signs,” Ms. Baxter said with a sad smile. “Sorry to say, but I think this is just something you two will have to figure out on your own.”   
  
“Well,” Thomas said with a sigh and a melancholy smile of his own. “You’re usually right.”   
  
She chuckled, taking a sip of her tea.   
  
“You know, I feel for both of you,” she added. “I feel I don’t give enough time to my own husband, and I get to go home to him every evening and wake up to him every morning. I understand where Mr. Ellis is coming from, wanting to have that change…”   
  
She trailed off, looking at Thomas pointedly, like she was trying to relay the rest of her thoughts silently.   
  
“But?” Thomas supplied nonetheless.   
  
“Well…” she continued softly. “I’m still here, too, aren’t I?”

* * *

  
Richard was waiting on the platform as Thomas stepped out of his train car, giving him the same warm smile he always did after not seeing each other for some time.   
  
“Trust the journey wasn’t too bad, Mr. Barrow?”   
  
For a moment, Thomas let his anxieties from the previous months melt away as he couldn’t help but grin in response.   
  
“Not at all.”   
  
They stepped out of the station into the early evening light, the sun starting to dip below the horizon. Thomas was splitting a day off into an evening and morning. It was easier to travel when he didn’t have to come and go late in the evening and terribly early in the morning. And two nights rather than one meant he could try and get an extra night’s sleep in a bed long and wide enough to offer some proper rest.   
  
As Richard began to lead the way down the sidewalk, he reached over and grabbed Thomas’ valise out of his hand.    
  
“Don’t have to do that,” Thomas said defensively, but not exactly complaining.   
  
Richard flashed a quick smile over in his direction.    
  
“‘S alright, I want to,” he said plainly. “Also might make up for the situation I got us into tonight.”   
  
His tone didn’t suggest the  _ situation _ was as bad as he teased, but Thomas’ nerves returned just as quickly as they had left. Because if he knew anything, it was that Richard had a tendency to bury the lede.   
  
“What’ve you done now?” he asked, trying to make the question sound more innocent than its true intentions.   
  
“Steady,” Richard replied, his smile faltering a bit but not quite gone completely. “Don’t go prickly on me just yet.”   
  
Thomas tried to release some of the tension he was carrying in his posture, attempting to swallow down the last edge of bitterness in his voice.   
  
“I’ve only promised us for dinner,” Richard relented. “At Jack and Sascha’s. If I’d been excited you were finally coming around, you should’ve seen them. Those two are more than eager to meet my... ‘beau’ as they’ve put it. Once they got the idea in their heads, I couldn’t wriggle out of it. They don’t exactly take no for an answer.”   
  
Thomas looked down the sidewalk behind them, to make sure no one was following them close enough to hear that he was just referred to as his companion’s  _ beau _ . He had to wonder where Richard left his head at times.   
  
“Funny, that,” Thomas replied dryly after determining the coast was clear. “I know someone who’s just the same.”   
  
Richard laughed breathily and shook his head, but there was little humor behind it.   
  
“Yes, I suppose you do.”

  
Thomas had meant for the jab to be more playful than anything, but of course as soon as Richard responded he realized how it could’ve been taken in a negative light, especially given the current situation.   
  
Leave it to him to already ruin the mood after only being together for no more than ten minutes. He’d told himself to come with an open mind and bright attitude, but so much for that so far.   
  
“Good cooks, are they?” he asked, trying to turn the conversation in a better direction.   
  
Richard took the change of topic in stride. “Not sure, if I’m honest. It’s not a regular thing we do. But I trust they wouldn’t offer it if they weren’t.”   
  
“Well, I suppose I’m willing to go through with it, ‘long as I can still get you all to myself by the end of tonight,” Thomas said, shooting a knowing look and a smirk over to his side.   
  
Richard managed a curl on his own lips.   
  
“I daresay you will.”   
  


The walk to the shop wasn’t a particularly long one, but provided enough distance for the two to fall into more of a normal conversation, getting back in step with each other. There was a hint of awkwardness in the air nonetheless, as they both avoided bringing up the… controversy at hand.   
  
“I’m at the top,” Richar said as he started climbing the steps found behind a door at the back of the building. “So I apologize for the hike.”   
  
“You can hardly expect me to mind stairs at this point,” Thomas replied. “I go up and down plenty more than this in one morning alone.”   
  
Richard chuckled as they reached the final landing. “Right you are.”   
  
He took out a key, unlocking a solitary door across from the staircase and holding it open for Thomas to step in ahead of him.   
  
“As I’ve told you, it’s not much,” Richard said, following behind to set Thomas’ luggage down and take his coat. “But I do find it cozy enough.”   
  
The entry opened into a fairly-sized kitchen with a small window on the left that didn’t bring in much light, at least at this time of day. Morning could be a different story. An equally small, but quaint table sat underneath it with just two chairs.   
  
It was nice enough though. Had appliances, cupboards built into the wall. Not much more to want.   
  
Richard flipped a switch on the wall that lit up a large light on the ceiling, which made the space feel a bit more warm and inviting.   
  
“You make it sound worse than it really is,” Thomas said. “I don’t find it too bad at all.”   
  
It was honest. In Richard’s letters it had almost seemed more like he was trying to warn Thomas that he’d be stepping into some worn down shack.   
  
“No?”    
  
“No,” Thomas echoed. “Have to admit, though, most places shine in comparison to my own room back at the house.”   
  
“Perhaps that’s because it’s more than just a room, to start,” Richard quipped back, walking past Thomas and taking his hand along the way. “I’ll show you the rest.”   
  
The opposite doorway led to a hallway, with a washroom on one end, and closed door on the other. Across the kitchen was the living room, probably the homiest part of the flat. It was larger than the kitchen, seeming to stretch across nearly the whole length of the floor, with three larger windows along the far wall. Thomas recognized the furniture from the former Ellis house. A sofa and two sitting chairs surrounded a coffee table in a semicircle, facing toward the windows.   
  
One more door accompanied the closed one at the end of the corridor, which meant -   
  
“Two bedrooms?” Thomas asked. “Very clever.”   
  
“Well, it’s only coincidence,” Richard explained. “But - can’t deny it would help for appearances.”   
  
He opened a door next to the kitchen, revealing a small, empty room with pieces of a bed frame leaned against the wall and a built-in bureau.   
  
“Haven’t set this one up yet, of course. Figured I’d wait until I had to,” Richard said, pointing out the elephant in the room for the first time.   
  
Thomas looked away before their eyes could meet, instead dodging the topic and nodding down the hall.   
  
“That one must be you, then.”   
  
“Clever yourself, there,” Richard said with the same smile that hadn’t left since they came in.   
  
He tugged his hand along with a squeeze as he went to open the other door.   
  
The bedroom was somewhat larger than the previous, but it was brighter. The two windows, one above the bed, and one on the adjacent wall faced toward the setting sun, bringing an orange glow across the bed and onto the other walls.   
  
It was warm. Comforting almost.   
  
“This is where, as you said, you’ll have me to yourself later tonight,” Richard said low, pulling Thomas by the hand even closer.   
  
Thomas chuckled, letting himself get taken in so he could wrap an arm around the other man’s waist.   
  
“I’ll be holding you to that.”   
  
He let go of Richard’s hand to cup his cheek, bringing him forward to close the rest of the distance and into a kiss.   
  
Richard brought his own hand up to Thomas’ neck, his fingers barely threading through his hair at the nape, encouraging him to continue.   
  
But he pulled ever so slightly away, still holding onto Richard, but just enough so he could look at him.   
  
“I have missed you,” he said quietly, not quite a whisper.    
  


It sounded contrary to how he’d been acting lately. How he’d been keeping Richard at an arm’s length. But it wasn’t a lie. He did miss him, and very dearly at that. But he also missed the normalcy. Before they’d laid out all the bitterness that was slowly building behind every meeting, every letter, every phone call.

  
Richard moved his hand from his neck to his upper arm, rubbing lightly.   
  
“You don’t have to miss me, Thomas,” he replied, not quite as quiet, but not angry either. “But you know that already. Don’t you?”   
  
Thomas nodded with a sigh, moving his grasp to Richard’s collarbone, but held him tighter at the waist.   
  
“I do.”   
  
Richard paused, nodding himself and looking nowhere in particular, just anywhere from Thomas’ face.   
  
“Thomas, I… you don’t have to say anything right now,” he stammered. “But… I would like an answer before you leave. ”   
  
Thomas only nodded again. He figured he’d ask the question eventually. An ultimatum of sorts. In fact, he’s all but given himself one. He knew it was high time to figure everything out.    
  
In all honesty, he needed answers too. He wasn’t only stringing Richard along, he was keeping himself on unsteady middle ground. It was his future as well after all.   
  
“I know I said I wouldn’t try to rush you,” Richard continued, filling the silence. “But if we’re being honest it has been -”   
  
“I can do that,” Thomas found himself saying, suddenly coming to the decision himself. “I will.”   
  
Richard pushed forward again, brushing their lips more softly this time around.   
  
“Thank you,” he whispered before pulling back and taking Thomas’ hand once more.    
  
He tried to smile as he let out a breath. “We should probably be making our way down soon.”   
  
Thomas pursed his lips and squeezed Richard’s hand back. “Right.”

* * *

  
“Thought we heard you come up,” the older man behind the door said, stepping back to let the two in.   
  
“Just got his things settled in,” Richard replied warmly with a jerk of his head in Thomas’ direction. He led the way inside and gave their apparent host for the evening a pat on the shoulder.   
  
Thomas stepped in behind, giving a nod in greeting, not sure if he was supposed to exchange his own pleasantries. They all probably knew who he was, but he couldn’t exactly put names to faces himself.

However, it seemed Richard quickly realized the same.   
  
“Thomas, this is Alexander Vogel, one of the - well, now former shopkeepers I’ve told you about,” he explained. “And Mr. Vogel, this is Thomas Barrow, my…”

  
He trailed off, looking over at Thomas and chuckling with a hint of nerve behind it.    
  
They never did really figure that out, did they? Wasn’t like it came up in a situation like this too often.   


“Erm, well -”   
  
“I’ve told you before, there’s no need for formalities,” the man butted in, saving Richard from his blunder and smiling all the same before turning to Thomas and offering his hand. “Sascha, please.”   
  
Thomas shrugged, his turn to chuckle nervously as he realized the formality the man was referring to was his own title and not their relationship.   
  
“Thomas, then, I suppose,” he replied, shaking the offered hand.   
  
Sascha shook but held on to his hand, then put his other hand on top, sandwiching Thomas’ grasp, causing him to jump a little.   
  
“It’s very nice to finally meet you,” Sascha added, taking no concern at all to giving Thomas a slight scare. “Richard here talks of little else.”   
  
Does he now?   
  
“Likewise,” Thomas added, then quickly, registering what else was just said to him. “To meet you, I mean.”   
  
He didn’t know why he was tripping over his words, other than for some reason he felt a need to impress the man. It must be what it feels like when normal people meet each other’s parents.   
  
Sascha still held onto his hand, looking at him very pointedly.   
  
“My, you are handsome, too” he said suddenly, but like it was nothing at all. As if he were recalling he had left the stove on.    
  
Granted Sascha wasn’t the first to tell him, but so casually… and from someone old enough to be his father…   
  
Well what the hell does one say to that?  
  
“Oh... Ah, well -” was all Thomas came up with, his laugh coming back.   
  
The other man let go finally, turning to Richard with raised eyebrows.   
  
“Good on you, son,” he said with a wink.   
  
“Well, he’s not too bad himself,” Thomas blurted out, but immediately wished he hadn’t.   
  
Why was he acting like this? He never said such things outright unless it was to Richard himself. Not even in a childish, gossipy way to Baxter.   
  
Something in the atmosphere was making him too casual for comfort, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.   
  
Richard coughed and smiled away from the other two, looking embarrassed but also, in a way, satisfied.   
  
A call from across the room, where there looked to be an entry to a kitchen, one again saving them all from embarrassment.   
  
Everyone’s timing this evening was impeccable.   
  
“You two finally came by,” said another man, a bit taller and thinner this time.   
  
He was dressed in only shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows and a vest. He wiped his hands on a tea towel draped over his shoulder as he made a beeline for Thomas.   
  
“You must be the man of the hour,” he said with a bright smile that lit up his tired eyes as he shook Thomas’ hand. “I’m Jack.”   
  
“Man of the hour?” Thomas laughed, completely forgetting to introduce himself in return after the… he wasn’t sure. Compliment perhaps?   
  
“But of course,” Jack said, beaming between him and Richard. “And just on time, too. I’m just finishing some last things, you can all come through if you’d like.”   
  
He waved them over to where he just came from, which was, in fact the kitchen. It was about the same size as Richard’s, but a slightly larger kitchen table was pulled out, already set with different dishes in the middle, ready to be served homestyle.    


Thomas supposed the two were entertainers at heart, but wondered how many guests they let into their home. Considering.  
  
“You seem to be quite the chef,” Thomas said, taking a place at the table, trying his hand at being a proper gracious guest after doing nothing but stumble so far.  
  
“Glad it looks like it,” Jack replied as he checked on something else still in the oven. “Not sure I really am, but I’ve figured it out some over time.”  
  
Sascha scoffed as he and Richard took place on either side of Thomas.  
  
“Don’t listen to him, he’s being modest,” he said. “He’s always been talented in the kitchen. I remember once when we first moved here - Richard knows this, but that was nearly forty years ago now, Thomas, so I’ve learned better since -”  
  
“It was over forty years ago,” Jack called over.  
  
Sascha waved him off. “They get my point, thank you. So _over_ forty years ago now - I was trying to make something for the two of us after we closed up for the day, but Jack was still downstairs… I don’t even remember what I was trying to make, come to think of it -”  
  
“Some sort of soup,” Jack interrupted again.  
  
“Ignore him,” Sascha said, putting a hand up again. “Point is, I couldn’t even figure out how to work the stovetop. I lit it, stepped away for… well, it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes - but I’m in the other room and I smell smoke. Now, I didn’t know much, but I knew enough not to trust that it was a good sign. So I come back in here, and I see _flames_ \- just shooting up. They’re starting to catch onto the cupboards so I grab another pot and throw it under the sink. I just toss water over everything, so now not only is everything burnt - the meal and the cabinets - but it’s wet; I’m thinking if the blaze didn’t ruin the wood, I certainly did with my one-man fire brigade.”  
  
He laughed at the memory as Jack came over to the table to join the rest.  
  
“Do you remember what you said when you came up and saw?” Sascha asked of him, finally letting him in the story.  
  
“No, but I know I was very cross with you. Could’ve burned the whole building down.”  
  
“You said you were never going to leave me alone in this flat ever again,” Sascha laughed again. “And you almost kept up with it. Still barely let me near the oven.”  
  
“Speaking of, the dessert will be a while yet, so feel free to start,” Jack said, reaching for the bottle of wine set out, but stopping short. “Unless, I don’t want to assume… you two don’t say grace or anything do you?”  
  
Richard and Thomas exchanged a look. Indeed they didn’t, but…  
  
“Erm, no, unless you prefer -” Richard stammered for the two of them.  
  
“No, no, I only…” Jack shrugged, taking up the wine once more. “Wanted to be polite, that’s all.”  
  
“Well, don’t need to mind about offending us. We’re thick-skinned,” Richard said, smiling across the table in good humor.  
  
“Knew you were, but we’re still getting to know Thomas here,” Jack replied, smiling himself. “Or… is it - do you prefer Tom?”  
  
The question was a curveball Thomas hadn’t gotten for a long time. Being in service, and with Mr. Carson who was such a tyrant on using proper Christian names while working, no one bothered to ask usually.  
  
“Thomas is just fine,” he said. “Was Tommy actually, growing up, but I haven’t been called that since I was a boy.”  
  
Richard looked over at him.  
  
“Never knew that.”  
  
Really? Thomas had to have told him at some point. Then again, he couldn’t think how it would’ve ever come up. He shied away from talking about his family, who were the only ones who really ever used the nickname.  
  
“Like I said, it was only when I was younger. Don’t care for it now,” Thomas replied. “Weren’t you ever Dick or Dickie when you were a lad?”  
  
Richard shook his head.  
  
“No, never was. Only you and my mum even called me Richard up until now. Considering I was only Ellis to everyone I worked with once I got the title.”  
  
“Funny how things work out,” Jack said. “Growing up, everyone around me only ever used Jack instead of John so it stuck with me forever. Hate people calling me Harris though. Mr. Harris. Never saw the point of it. People have given names for a reason.”  
  
“What about ‘Sascha?’” Thomas asked. When he’d been first introduced as Alexander, it threw him for a loop after Richard had only used the shortening in his letters. “Is that French?”  
  
“Can be, I believe,” the man answered. “German on my part though. My father was born and raised in Germany, but was a... ‘man of the world’ he called it. Travelled all around the continent doing odd jobs when he was a young man. Eventually came to London, actually where he met my mother, and they settled down up here in Yorkshire once they got married. He made sure my sister Erna and I knew his roots though. Our heritage. We spoke the language at home, the three of us. Drove our mum mad sometimes because she never picked it up.”  
  
“You still speak German, then?” Richard asked.  
  
“Oh yes,” Sascha answered. “With Erna. But I don’t really go around showing it off. During the war, you can probably imagine a lot of folks weren’t too happy to learn about my family background. Wish they were though. It’s a beautiful culture and language… country, too but I’ve only been there twice.”  
  
He said it with a small laugh, but because he’d been so cheery so far, it was easy to tell what was forced and what wasn’t with him.  
  
“Well I for one am glad of it,” Jack added, reaching over and grabbing the other man’s hand, but not making a show of it. Like they did this at dinner all the time. They probably actually did.  
  
Thomas felt Richard do the same under the table after watching them. Even though it was out of sight, it made him shiver, nervously at first, but then in a good way. Realizing they could do this in a place where he almost wouldn’t mind getting caught in the act of it.  
  
“If he didn’t have an international wanderer for a father, we would have never met,” Jack continued, now speaking to Thomas and Richard. “His father worked for mine, doing whatever labor was needed on the farm. They let us muck around some days when they were working, then we went to school together… not sure how you lot went about it, but we just had the one class for all the kids in the area whose mothers wanted to send them off. My family eventually made up about half the school. There were six of us. One right after the other. Don’t know how Mum managed.”  


“Then I quit school before him, of course - I’m a bit older,” Sascha said, taking up the story. “Worked some odd jobs myself to earn enough to move here into York when I was… oh how old would you say?”    
  
Jack shrugged. “Seventeen? Eighteen maybe?”   
  
“Eighteen sounds more right. It was later than my mum wanted… And well - we were already... “ Sascha continued, pausing to find the right phrasing. “Sweet on each other, let’s say. So later, he came, too. Pooled our money together after some years and… he we are.”   
  


Thomas felt Richard’s hand squeeze his own. He looked over to find him smirking at him.   
  
“What?” Thomas asked, feeling himself smiling back.   
  
“It’s just our own story has… odd bits that made us fall into place.”   
  
An understatement if there ever was one. Thomas standing him up on a date he didn’t know was a date to go off dancing with another handsome stranger at a secret dance hall, only to get arrested at said dance hall and have to be bailed out of jail by the man he originally stood up, but that man made a point of touching his lips in the middle of the street and took him back to his place of employment and up to his room where -

Well, maybe they wouldn’t share that part.   
  
“I can tell you’re just about bursting to tell,” Thomas said, squeezing his hand back under the table. “Go on, then.”  
  
So Richard did, starting from the much less scandalous beginning of the Royal Household’s visit to Downton, but not sparing any of the hairy details either.   
  
And Thomas didn’t mind, but he found the  _ fact _ that he didn’t mind strange. It had taken ages to admit out loud to even Baxter that he and Richard had taken up together. Of course, she knew beforehand through her own educated guesses, and Thomas knew she must have, but it didn’t make it easier to admit at first.   
  
And now here he was, just letting someone else bare it all to people he had only met an hour before, tops. Because these people understood. Just a few blokes, talking about their lives like they were normal. He was teetering on the edge of believing it  _ was _ normal - end of sentence.   
  
The rest of the meal went as such. Thomas answered their questions, and was honest about it all. Even when Sascha had asked about his own family and apologized for doing so after. Thomas told him not to worry over it. And he’d meant it.   
  
It was comfortable.    
  
“I’ll grab all this,” Jack said a little while after they’d finished and were now talking over empty plates. “You all can go through. Make yourselves at home.”   
  
“I can help with it,” Thomas offered.   
  
“You don’t have to. You’re our guest, Thomas.”   
  
“Don’t mind,” he insisted. “Many hands make light work and all that.”   
  
Before Jack could protest any more, Thomas was already reaching across to grab and stack the dishware.   
  
“I won’t complain,” Sascha said, standing and taking his and Richard’s wine glasses and nodding back toward the living room. “What do you say we leave them to it?”   
  
Richard chuckled, standing to follow. “I say it’s fine by me. Hate to say it love, but you probably are faster at the clean up than the rest of us.”   
  
Thomas laughed in return. “Well, I am the professional I suppose.”   
  
Richard and Sascha left, leaving Thomas and Jack alone to themselves. Thomas took his pile to the sink and began to fill it to let them soak a bit. Jack came up behind him with the rest, placing the plates silently on the counter next to Thomas.   
  
He leaned back against the wall next to the sink, watching Thomas. But it wasn’t like the rest of the night. It was more uneasy. Like he was studying him.    
  
Thomas tried to pay no mind. He started to roll his own sleeves up to get to work on the dishes, his jacket now abandoned on the back of the chair he just came from, but then thought better of it. Remembering what was there and who was looking.   
  
“Can I be frank with you?” Jack asked, pushing his glasses up. Fidgeting.   
  
Thomas looked over, suddenly feeling chill. The question was too vague to make anything of, but not cheery either.   
  
He shrugged, trying to look unbothered. “I suppose.”   
  
Jack stood up a bit straighter and crossed his arms.   
  
“I think you should do it.”   
  
Thomas met his gaze. “Do what?”   
  
As if he didn’t already know.   
  
Jack smiled, but it seemed like he was  _ trying _ to look kind.   
  
“Move in with him. Take on the shop,” he said softly, just for Thomas to hear. “I can tell you make a good pair.”   
  
Thomas  _ tried  _ to smile back, but something was stopping it that he couldn’t break through.    
  
“Nice of you to say,” he replied, matching the other man’s tone. “But…”   
  
But what?   
  
He looked away. Turned the tap off.   
  
“Richard… don’t get mad at him for telling, but, he mentioned you’re a bit apprehensive with it all,” Jack said, not exactly in response to Thomas. “But it’s not as scary as you think. Once you’re in it.”   
  
“I wouldn’t say I’m scared,” Thomas admitted, still looking away. “Worried, moreso…”   
  
Why he was telling this, he didn’t know. But the mood changed in the room, yet that atmosphere of… comfort lingered.   
  
“Worried about what?” Jack asked. Not interrogating, not accusing, just… asking.   
  
“Different things,” Thomas said with a sigh, turning back to Jack. “I already have a career I’ve been working up the ladder at for two decades. And there’s… good people there.”   
  
And some not so good people who’ve left not so good memories.   
  
“And… well, we’ve never been together like this, obviously,” Thomas continued. “We don’t know if it’ll work, truly.”   
  
“Oh, it will,” Jack said, sounding very sure of it.   
  
“Again, that’s nice of you to say,” Thomas said, trying to keep level. “But… there’s a lot you don’t know.”   
  
_ “I’m messed up in the head. We’re already getting onto rocky ground. I’m far from the person he deserves. We fight at times. There’s a start of it.” _ _  
_ _  
_ “No, I’m sure I don’t. But he knows it all doesn’t he?”   
  
Thomas nodded.   
  
“And he’s still completely enamored with you, Thomas,” Jack said, quieter even yet.    
  
“Maybe not as much as he once was,” Thomas replied.   
  
Jack sighed. “That can’t be true. You should hear the things he says when you’re not here. See the way he looks at you when you’re not looking. Hell, even when you are. Take it from an old man like me… that’s the kind of thing you should hold onto. Love just changes over time. It might feel different, but it’s still there.”   
  
“Maybe you should hear what we say to  _ each other, _ ” Thomas replied, stepping a little too close to an argument.   
  
“You should hear what Sascha and I say to each other,” Jack replied. “But those aren’t trump cards, Thomas. I mean, yes, I don’t know you, but if we’re as much alike as I think we are, those… bad days or the occasional scrape up… they shouldn’t make you throw the baby out with the bath water.”   
  
“It’s not just that…” Thomas added, feeling vulnerable, but for some reason  _ wanting _ to be. Wanting to talk about it. “It’s… hard already. For us. Today is good, but the rest of it can be a struggle at times. Sometimes I feel like maybe we… don’t know each other. Or at least as much as we should. And - and if it’s hard now, it might just be harder later when we’re figuring out how to… live together. Make it work.”   
  
“No one’s saying it won’t be hard,” Jack relented. “But Richard said it himself. You’re thick-skinned. Resilient. And you know why it’s good today, Thomas? It’s because you’re  _ here. _ ”   
  
Thomas sighed and nodded. It was all true. He couldn’t deny it.   
  
“Do you love him?” Jack asked plainly.   
  
Thomas nodded again. “‘Course I do.”   
  
“And do you want this? Deep down?”   
  
Thomas sighed. It’s the question Richard had been asking him for months. Hell, he’d been asking himself that question for months.   
  
“I can’t tell.”   
  
Jack nodded. “Think of it this way then. If you weren’t already far apart, if there were no risks attached, if you didn’t have this… job you’re worried about leaving… would you want it? If he could… get on one knee like any other man and ask to have you forever, would you say yes?”   
  
“Of course I would,” Thomas said. “But that’s not how it is.”   
  
“Doesn’t matter in my book,” Jack said with a smile. “I was in your position once. Or nearly. We were apart for a while. While Sascha was working here in York, and I was still back with my folks. We faced the same laws you two do now. But you know what I said, Thomas?”   
  
He shook his head.   
  
“Fuck it.”   
  
Thomas laughed, shocking himself that Jack was able to turn his mood around just like that. Never heard someone this much his senior be so crass.   
  
Jack laughed, too, seeming to be proud of the fact he was able to pull a smile out of the other man.   
  
“I said, ‘Fuck it,’ and I’m so happy I did, Thomas. I nearly didn’t. But because of it I’ve been a very happy man for forty-one years. Even if Sascha can’t remember the exact time frame.”   
  
They both laughed again. Jack and Sascha seemed to be a silly pair, but Thomas can tell how it works.   
  
“I know I can’t force you to do anything, but I do hope you know that Richard isn’t the only one you can talk to about this,” Jack said. “You seem like a nice enough bloke. And I know Richard’s a good man, too, so I trust he’d pick a good one to stay with.”   
  
Thomas nodded, still smiling. It was the first time the situation had made him smile.   
  
“Thank you.”   
  
Jack nodded back, then turned his attention to the sink.   
  
“Leave that,” he said. “Why don’t you and I get back to our better halves?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since the last update. Work has been very energy draining lately (both for good and bad reasons), and I've been super busy in the evenings, then I was out of town visiting my brother last weekend (my version of a weekend which is Mon/Tues), then we had major breaking news the other day that's like... huge and depressing for my corner of the world and I've been covering it with a lot of overtime so I just needed a break... 
> 
> Can't promise I'll update soon/regularly BUT I do promise that this fic will be finished because I LOVE writing it and interacting with y'all!! Thanks for sticking with it. It really does mean a lot to me!! Seeing you like and comment and then reading some of y'alls fics in return makes my day
> 
> This chapter and the next were originally going to be one big chapter but I split it up. My word counts just keep rising... but I think yall are gonna like the next update a lot though!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recap of last chapter if y'all need because it's been a while yet again:
> 
> -Thomas goes back to York after his promise to visit Richard after his Big Move. He feels uneasy going in, and Baxter advises him to let Richard down gently if need be  
> -Upon his arrival, Richard asks Thomas to give him an answer to whether or not he intends to move in with him by the end of his visit. Thomas agrees, feeling like he owes it to both Richard and himself.  
> -Jack and Sascha meet Thomas over dinner, share a bit of their origin story. Thomas realizes he feels comfortable in their home because they can all talk freely and honestly with each other.  
> -Jack pulls Thomas aside after dinner and encourages him to take the plunge. He sees some of his younger self in Thomas, which is his evidence that he believes it'll all be fine between him and Richard.
> 
> and that's what you missed on glee

Thomas should have known better than to expect to sleep soundly through the night. Not only was it a new place, but last evening’s conversation with Jack had given him plenty to mull over once Richard had drifted off.   
  
That wasn’t to say that he wasn’t relishing the fact that he was laying next to Richard in his own bed. Not two mattresses squished side by side in some room in a public house, or the men’s quarters at Downton, but a real bed where, even though he wasn’t sleeping much, he could stretch out as much or as little as he wished.   
  
And in a room in a flat that was just for them, too. Where they didn’t have to mind their volume all too much. With neighbors downstairs who were the only people to be careful of, and if they minded any noise, they were likely too polite to say anything.   


Thomas guessed he’d already been awake for at least half an hour, and knew he had woken up a couple times throughout the night. So, not much more than a few hours of sleep altogether. However, it was still nice to just relax into the faint grasp Richard had around him as he still dozed, an arm draped across his side from behind and his face pressed into his neck.

A bit of sunlight started to peek through a space between the curtains on the opposite wall. Not directly, just warm enough for Thomas to not strain his eyes as he looked at the clock on Richard’s nightstand.   
  
A little past five o’clock. Any other day of the week he would’ve just called it and gotten up early. No reason for today to be any different when he could easily come back to bed later. It was a Sunday, which meant the shop was closed and Richard had no obligations outside this room either.   
  
Richard stirred as Thomas tried to gingerly peel away from him and out of bed. He reached out, his eyes still closed, grabbing Thomas’ wrist.   
  
“What time is it?” he mumbled, clearly not quite awake.   
  
“Too early,” Thomas replied quietly as he pulled his hand away and leaned back down to kiss Richard’s forehead. “Go back to sleep, I’m only getting a glass of water.”   
  
Richard blinked his eyes open for a moment, squinting at the change of light. Thomas half expected him to protest, but instead he only buried his face back into the pillow and drew the covers back over his shoulder.   


Thomas ran a hand through Richard’s hair before finally rising all the way out of bed and collecting his clothes tossed aside the night before, folding and placing them back in his valise, and taking out nightclothes to throw on.   
  
He looked back at Richard as he got half-dressed and thought about what Jack had said after dinner last night. About love feeling different. Everything he said last night was swimming through his head, but that part in particular kept being drawn to the forefront of his mind. The more he thought about it, he realized he knew it to be true before words were put to it.   
  
Of course things changed, but that didn’t have to mean for worse. Even with the rockier months they’ve just had.   
  
If this were one of the first mornings the two had spent together, Thomas would have woken the other man up, determined to continue what they started the night prior, any tiredness from either party be damned. Now, he felt content in giving Richard a bit more shut eye, knowing he’ll still wake up to him later, for mischievous reasons or otherwise.    
  
Of course, they didn’t have to leave each other today, so that timestamp wasn’t a driving force. But even if it were, Thomas gathered he liked these lazy mornings better nowadays. Maybe age was catching up to him, or maybe he just didn’t feel a need to make every moment together filled with a crazed burning desire. It was just as nice to simply be  _ with _ each other. Talking and lounging and stealing soft kisses and touches.   
  
As Thomas left the room, he stole one more glance at his sleeping partner. He smiled, knowing he was in love with this man with sleep-mussed hair and lines on his face from wrinkled bed sheets, already completely knocked out again as he nearly drooled onto his pillow... just as he was with the one who wooed him with carefully woven turns of phrase, a pristine wave to his hair, and letters full of things that caused them to need to be destroyed after they were read.   
  
Jack was right in another sense, too. It was all something to hold onto.   
  
Thomas made his way into the kitchen, finding a glass easy enough in one of the cabinets above the sink and filling it. Curious, he found himself searching the other cupboards and drawers, if anything, just so he can know where to find things later on. But moreso, it was because it hit him suddenly that he didn’t know how Richard lived. Not really.   
  
The few times Richard looked in at Downton, he was able to get a glimpse into Thomas’ own day to day life. What things he kept on his desk, what book was taking up residence on his nightstand, how hastily he remade his bed in the morning. Little tiny housekeeping things.   
  
Sure, Thomas could tell how Richard liked his tea, the order he got dressed, or what sections of the newspaper he preferred to read first. But not how he set up a home. Organized his things. If he needed things to be just so, or he could deal with a little bit of mess and disorder. If he could cook, or be a handyman in a pinch. Not from witnessing it himself, anyhow.

Everything he stumbled upon seemed to be generally tidy. No dishes in the sink, plates and cups and silverware laid neatly in their places. Richard could have just made the place look nice for Thomas’ company, but even that said something if it was so. A need to impress.   


There was one drawer below the counter that told a different story as Thomas pulled it open, though. It was littered with miscellaneous items; pencils, stamps, a pair of scissors, a letter opener, a spool of black thread that looked half used... just to name a few.

Tucked away in the back was a short stack of envelopes, and unlike the rest of the junk, didn’t seem to be carelessly tossed in. Instead, they were methodically piled in the corner of the drawer. They would be just out of sight if someone like Thomas wasn’t deliberately poking around.

He pulled the bunch of them out, having an inkling as to what they were. He had a spot in a drawer in his bedroom dedicated to the letters he couldn’t bring himself to throw out or burn up. Sometimes the deed needed to be done regardless of how much he’d like to reread the words later, but he allowed himself to be sentimental when he could.

Sure enough, as he thumbed through the envelopes, he found his own return address written on each one. The stack wasn’t as thick as Thomas’ own back home, but he knew Richard had more on the line at his former employer. They didn’t live the same open secret lifestyle.

Thomas took his findings to the kitchen table, pulling the letter at the top of the pile out of its envelope. Surely Richard wouldn’t mind. It was Thomas’ own writing after all. Not like it was anything they both hadn’t seen before. 

_ 7 February, 1928 _

_ R, _ _  
_ _  
_ _ I feel horrid leaving you with no response these last few days. By the time this reaches you, trusting it doesn’t get lost (and let us pray that it doesn’t), I’d have left you hanging for nearly a week. I would be feeling quite nervous if I were in your shoes, so I can’t imagine how awful the wait was. Therefore, I hope you can accept my apology. It’s not much to give, I know, but I’m asking you to take it nonetheless. Please don’t think I’m at all trying to hold you at arm’s length. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ I do wish I could say it was because I’d found no time in the day, and albeit that’s partly the reason… and why this will likely be a brief letter, but it would not be the full truth. And when you’ve been so honest to me in your previous letter, how could I not do the same? _

_ No, the truth is you’ve left me quite stunned, I’m not afraid to say it. Stunned and relieved if you can believe it. Relieved because I want to tell you that I feel exactly the way you do. That is, if I’m understanding you correctly, and I believe I am. I can’t even begin to tell you how utterly happy your words made me. In fact, I’ve wanted to say those same things for some time now. It turns out you sooner got the courage to bring it forward. How glad I am that you did... _

_ That’s truly why I haven’t written back until now. There have been many times I sat down and tried to put pen to paper, but every time I made an attempt, it didn’t feel like I could properly put into words how much your letter meant… and how much you mean to me. This won’t likely be proper enough either, but at this point I’d rather you read my rambling nonsense than nothing at all. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ You wrote that you’d understand if I wished to back away from our upcoming plans… but it’s quite the contrary. If I could see you right this moment, I would. I can hardly wait two more weeks, but I’ll begrudgingly manage. In the meantime, I will be imagining you “saying the actual words” as you put it, and I hope you can imagine me saying it back. Because you wrote you’d rather say it aloud, I won’t write those words here to give you the pleasure. It may be unwise anyway to put it down in ink. It doesn’t matter much, though, does it? We both know what they are. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ You may find it embarrassing for me to admit, but I’ve never had this same feeling with anyone else. Not with anyone who felt it back, anyway, or mattered in the end. Nor have I ever felt this strongly about it either… nor about anyone. I’m afraid you may be stuck with me for a while. _

_ As I write this, I’m beginning to think I may be the one to scare  _ _ you _ _ off, now.  _

_ With that, I had better stop before I step over the line. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ I’m eagerly awaiting our visit on the 21st. It cannot come soon enough.  _

_ Ever yours,  
T. _ _ B. _

Thomas had read Richard’s much more eloquent letter that preceded the one in his hands many times, but obviously had not seen his response in nearly three years. He remembered writing it, the drafts before it that ended up in the wastepaper basket, and the whirlwind of a week it was. The Dowager’s health had taken a sharp decline sooner than anyone had predicted, and she passed not long after.

It felt like the letter was written ages ago, when in reality it wasn’t that long since. Perhaps it was because he sounded so young and excited. He felt young then, getting all giddy over this handsome man who had been flirting and teasing for months before sending a letter admitting he had _“something very important to tell him”_ and he hoped Thomas _“wouldn’t be put off by it.”_

Of course, Richard did finally tell him the actual damned thing during their next meeting. It was another memory Thomas looked back on often and fondly. How sweetly and timidly Richard had kissed him before saying he was in love with him for the first time. Afraid to admit it, even though Thomas had already told him he felt the same on paper.   
  
It had been only about five months since they first met, and they’d only met in person once between. However, at the same time it was five long months of waiting. Both of them were too stupidly fearful of mucking something up to say anything too serious sooner, when in retrospect it wouldn’t have. The letters came nearly everyday, and they phoned whenever they could. It was just different with Richard from the beginning. It was easy to trust him, and he could never put his finger on why. But they were in sync before they even knew each other’s first names.

Thomas folded the letter over the envelope it came in, taking it and the rest of the collection of letters back into the bedroom to peruse. Richard was exactly as he’d left him, and tried to be discreet as he slid back underneath the quilt, sitting against the headboard.   
  
Richard stretched a little as Thomas settled back in, reaching out a hand underneath the covers and finding a home on his knee.

“I’m awake,” he said muffled into the pillow, his eyes still shut.

“Don’t sound like it,” Thomas said, wrapping his fingers around Richard’s hand.

Richard hummed and blinked his eyes open, looking up at Thomas before forcing them shut again and shifting slightly so he could breathe outside the bedclothes.   
  
“You’ve dressed,” he said, his voice clearer but still groggy from sleep. “Where did you go?”   
  
Thomas chuckled at the confirmation that Richard wasn’t truly up when he’d told him the answer to his question not long before.   
  
“Hardly dressed,” he replied, stoking a thumb over Richard’s hand. “Couldn’t sleep anymore. Went snooping about the kitchen.”   
  
Richard sighed as he opened his eyes again, squinting, but seeming to be for good this time.   
  
“Find anything good, then?”   
  
“Just might’ve,” Thomas said, picking the stack of letters back up and waving them in Richard’s direction.    
  
Richard smiled in good humor as he let go of Thomas’ knee and reached up to take the loose letter on top. He rolled over onto his back, unfolding the letter and began to skim it over himself.  
  
“Taking a look at your own handiwork?” he teased.   
  
“Only that one so far. Figured you wouldn’t care if I did.”   
  
“No, I don’t mind,” Richard said, still scanning the page and smiling to himself. “I like this one most.”   
  
“Do you?”   
  
Richard hummed an affirmation. “Been taking it out a lot lately. We were so silly with it all at the time, but it reminds me of how sweet you are when you want to be.”   
  
Thomas slid down into the bed to lay closer to Richard and reread the letter over his shoulder.   
  
“Am I not always sweet?” he teased back.   
  
Richard chuckled. “No, not always, and I think you know that. Spikey as you are.”   
  
He folded the letter shut again and shifted to look at Thomas.   
  
“You are  _ almost _ always sweet to me though.”   
  
Richard handed the letter back to Thomas, who placed it back with the others on the nightstand.   
  
“Nice to be reminded you love me every now and again, too. Even though you don’t say it outright there. But it’s as you wrote: ‘we know what the words are.’”   


He said it slowly, with a rhythm to it that sounded rehearsed, like he was reciting a stanza to a favorite poem of his.  
  
Thomas propped himself up on one elbow as he turned back to Richard, resting his gloved hand on his shoulder. Richard’s smile wasn’t gone entirely, but somewhat faded.    
  
“Is that something you need to be reminded of?” he asked, no longer teasing him about it all. The reason for the sentimentality of keeping such a letter wasn’t lost on him.   
  
Richard put an arm across his own chest to meet Thomas’ hand once again.   
  
“Sometimes. Since you’re not here to tell me yourself,” he said quietly, playing with Thomas’ fingers. “I could do with hearing it more often, that’s all.”   
  
“Well, you’re not alone in that,” Thomas replied. “But I’ll tell you right now that it still stands true. That you are without a doubt the love of my life, Richard Ellis.”

He said it with a smirk, but it was true. As comically sweet of a statement it was.   
  
Richard smiled more warmly back up at him.   
  
“I’m glad to hear it.”   
  
He took his hand away from Thomas’ to pull him down by his shoulder.   
  
“Come here.”   
  
Thomas took the bait, leaning down to gently kiss him before settling into the crook of Richard’s arm, his head on his shoulder.   
  
“I love you, too,” Richard nearly whispered, placing a peck on the top of Thomas’ head. “And I’ll keep saying it to you as long as you keep saying it to me.”   


Thomas stiffened a bit. Richard probably meant it to be sweet back, but there was something else with it. That raincloud of insecurity and the unknown was starting to form above them. It was foolish to think they’d be safe from it indoors, in bed together.   
  
“Why do you think I would ever stop?” Thomas asked softly. He would probably regret pointing out the bitterness that was deliberately camouflaged on Richard’s part.   
  
Richard paused, abruptly stopping his fingers that were trailing on Thomas’ side.   
  
“Not that I think you  _ will _ , per se,” Richard replied just as low. His voice sounded deeper when he was unsure, and even more so when he was tired. Almost like a different person. “But I don’t have a crystal ball, do I? There could be a day when we decide it’s not worth the trouble. I hope to God it never comes but -”   
  
“It’s hard,” Thomas finished for him. Not sure why he asked, when he’s heard it all before.   
  
“Yeah,” Richard said, starting to trace fingers along Thomas’ skin again. “Yeah, it’s hard.”   
  
Thomas tries to relax again, releasing some of the tension in his shoulders, but he watched his fingers drum anxiously on Richard’s shoulder near where he laid his head.   
  
“When you say it hurts… to love me,” he starts again. “Does it hurt now? When we’re like this?”   
  
Richard turns his head to look down at Thomas, though they’re pressed so close, Thomas can’t focus his eyes back on his face, so he turns his attention back to his hand.   
  
“Right this moment, no,” he said in the same sleepy, and possibly somewhat defeated drawl. “Right now I feel lovely, even so.”   
  
Thomas opens his mouth to reply, but Richard beats him to it.   
  
“Just feel like I need to hold onto you tighter so you don’t slip away.”   
  
“Maybe not right this moment, but it hurts even when I’m here, doesn’t it?” Thomas said, not a beat after Richard’s claim. “Because you’re convinced I’m going to slip away?”   
  
Richard huffed, sounding a bit frustrated. “I don’t know what I’m convinced of, anymore.”   
  
Thomas leaned up again, propping himself above Richard to look at him properly.   
  
“It’s not… this or nothing, you know,” he said, coming out more accusatory than he intended. “I don’t intend to leave you. No matter what… decision I come to.”   
  
“No. I wouldn’t want you to,” Richard snapped his head up. “Wouldn’t expect you to.”   
  
“Really?” Thomas said, trying and failing to stifle his hot-headedness. “Because it sounds like that’s exactly what you might expect.”   
  
“Not from you,” Richard said, just as sharply. He took a breath before continuing on.    
  
“It’s me I’m worried about.”   
  
Thomas sat up all the way, causing Richard to be the one to prop himself up on his side now.   
  
“How can you be worried about that?” Thomas sniped, pulling away fully from Richard’s touch. “You’re the one with the choice. It’s either you do it or you don’t.”   
  
“I don’t want to leave you,” Richard repeated. “But I don’t want to be in… pain for the rest of my life either.”   
  
“And you think it would be less painful to be without me than with me, then.”   
  
“No, that’s not…” Richard started, then sputtered. “I only - I wouldn’t be with you though, truly. Would I?”

“So that’s your plan is it?” Thomas asked again, getting snippier by the second. “Call everything off if I don’t say yes to this proposition?”   
  
“No. No, it’s not,” Richard said, sitting up fully himself now and reaching out to touch Thomas who jerked away at the movement.   
  
“Don’t lie to me.”   
  
“I’m  _ not _ .”   
  
“Then why bring it up?” Thomas asked, too loudly for the time of morning.   
  
“Christ, Thomas, I -” Richard flustered.   
  
He rubbed his face in his hands, pressing into his forehead and down his eyes, seeming to try and calm himself as he took a deep breath.   
  
“I don’t intend to… do any of this,” he said finally after an uncomfortable silence filled the room. “Not truly. I’m - I get ahead of myself.”   
  
“Ahead of yourself?” Thomas said just as scathed. “Color me flattered that you can stand me for a while yet.”   
  
“Thomas - Christ, will you just Iisten to me for one  _ damn _ moment?” Richard finally cracked.   
  
Thomas flinched at the command. It wasn’t often Richard lost his temper, he was good at at least pretending to be cool and collected when he really was angry. It was off putting. It wasn’t the Richard Ellis he knew.   


He was right in that he was instantly regretting bringing it all forward. Knowing it was him that so easily turned what was a nice morning into a quarrel, and the man across from him into a fighter.   
  
Richard met his eyes. They looked heavy, worn out.   
  
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, carefully after his outburst lingered for a moment. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t stop… thinking about it. I imagine these… scenarios where I continue to push you away until I’m forced to let you go. That if I can’t convince you to stay here, I’m not worthy of having you to begin with so I just… leave. Or worse yet, I force it upon you - beat you into it - and we’re more unhappy together than we were apart.”   
  
He took another breath, but he still sounded angry.   
  
“That’s when it hurts the most. When I’m not with you I forget what the rest feels like. How it really feels to sit here with you and - and talk like others get to talk. That’s why it hurts to love you. Because I know it’s true… that you care about me and I for you... but I forget. I always somehow forget.”   
  
Richard shook his head and leaned back against the headboard, shutting his eyes.   
  
“You’re right, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”   
  
Thomas leaned back next to him, tentatively reaching for his hand and lacing their fingers together.   
  
“No, I should be sorry - that is - I am sorry,” he said, stumbling as his own temper was still coming down. “I haven’t got a right to go off like that. I don’t mean it.”   
  
Richard sighed, his eyes still closed. Thomas held his hand tighter, but didn’t feel Richard reciprocate the gesture.   
  
“Yes, you do. You mean everything you say,” he said, sounding beaten. “But it’s alright. You’ve a lot to think about as is, I shouldn’t be piling it on.”   
  
“No. It’s not alright,” Thomas said, low and sheepish.   
  
“It is, Thomas. Let’s forget about it, please,” Richard tried to cap it off.   
  
Thomas shifted his weight again, turning his body to press against Richard.   
  
“Richard, look at me,” he said, placing a hand on Richard’s cheek to gently force the suggestion.   
  
Richard obeyed, but looked more tired and frustrated than comforted by it.   
  
“I  _ am _ sorry,” he repeated. “I want you to be able to talk to me about these things. And my getting angry won’t help in the matter. I don’t want to hurt you more than you already are.”   
  
Richard sighed. “It’s not you exactly that’s causing the hurt. It’s… everything.”   
  
Thomas nodded, keeping Richard’s gaze as he finally squeezed the hand that wasn’t cupping his cheek back.   
  
The same thought from earlier today reared its head again.  _ Love feels different. _

Now he wasn’t sure if it was for better or worse. But it was a sure contrast to how it looked when he first woke up.   
  
“Regardless,” Thomas said once he found his voice once more. “Maybe I ought to be there for you more.”   
  
Richard gave him a small smile, just the slightest upturn at the corner of his mouth.   
  
Thomas could tell it was forced, it wasn’t Richard’s usual shy smirk. But the effort was there, and that was enough for now.   
  
“Thank you.”   
  
The smile may not have been one hundred percent sincere, but the thanks was.   
  
Thomas efforted a smile back and leaned down to kiss him again, intending for it to only be a reassuring peck, but instead found Richard holding him down gently by the base of his neck.   
  
“It’s still early,” Richard muttered, once he pulled back for air. “I might rest a bit more.”   
  
Thomas wasn’t sure if Richard was trying to put themselves or the matter to bed, but he obliged, kissing his cheek once more before letting him settle back into the bed and following suit, taking residence where he started, flush against Richard’s side.   
  
“Thank you,” he repeated, slinging his arm over Thomas again, holding him tightly.

* * *

  
“Only, I don’t think it’s our place to get involved.”   
  
Sascha took the chair facing opposite Jack at the table in their kitchen, shoved back against the wall now that company wasn’t over.   
  
Jack took the mug of black coffee offered to him, blowing over it lightly before taking a sip. He preferred it in the morning over tea. Felt it helped him wake up faster.   
  
“I’m not getting involved in anything,” he said, setting the drink down with both hands, warming them. “I only offered some sage advice, that’s all.”   
  
“Unsolicited advice is more like it,” Sascha said, taking a liberal spoonful of sugar from the bowl, stirring it into his own mug and ignoring Jack’s disapproving look.   
  
The man was going to have a heart attack one day, and his sweet tooth would be to blame.   
  
“I think he was rather grateful for it, if you want to know the truth,” Jack continued. “From what I gather, it doesn’t seem like the poor man has many folks to turn to. Especially ones who understand it all.”   
  
“And how do you gather that?” Sascha asked pointedly over his coffee cup.   
  
“Oh, Richard says things when it gets slow downstairs,” he replied, waving a hand like he’s trying to shoo away Sascha’s prying. “But he may just be a worrier. I don’t believe there’s any real trouble in paradise for those two.”   


Sascha nodded, eyebrows raised. “No, they are as smitten as smitten can be.”   
  
He chuckled into his cup, taking another drink.   
  
“What do we think of ol’ Tommy Boy, though?”   
  
Jack laughed back, shaking his head. “Well, I think he’d hate it if you called him that to his face.”   
  
“He said it was a nickname, I recall,” Sascha defended.   
  
“When he was younger,” Jack clarified for him. But honestly, he should know. He was there.   
  
“He is young!”   
  
“I’d put him past forty, at least.”   
  
“That’s young.”   
  
“To us, perhaps.”   
  
“Exactly.”   
  
Jack laughed again, short and breathy. More incredulous of the man across from him than anything.  
  
“I do like  _ Thomas _ , though. He seems a nice bloke, if a bit reserved.”   
  
Sascha hummed in agreement. “He reminds me of someone.”   
  
“Oh?” Jack prompted sarcastically. “Wonder who that could be.”   
  
“Well, don’t look now, but he’s sitting in this room.”   
  
They smiled at each other across the table, chuckling softly as the bad joke.   
  
“You know, that was what I told him last night,” Jack continued. “Only, he’s more careful than I was. And there is such a thing as being  _ too _ careful.”   
  
“Oh, I’m not hung up about it,” Sascha said. “I should be shocked if he doesn’t come around soon.”   
  
Jack shrugged. “I think it’s in his heart, but he seems to keep talking himself out of it. I think you may be right that we’ll be seeing him more at some point, but I can’t be certain.”

“So really, you’re clueless,” Sascha teased.   
  
Jack rolled his eyes. “Well, we’ve only known him a day.”

“Known Richard for a while now, though, and he can be quite persuasive.”   
  
“Right you are there,” Jack conceded. “Still can’t believe you both talked me into all this.”

_ This _ being the change of management at the store, not the dinner the night before. That had actually been his own idea, to serve his own curiosity. And it was nice to have folks over to the flat again. They hadn’t done it in a while.    
  
Jack wasn’t having regrets about selling the place, nothing of that sort. However, he was surprised at how easily convinced he was when Richard came around and actually started negotiating. It did end up working out best, though. They weren’t selling the entire building, so he and Sascha wouldn’t have to go anywhere. For the time being, he himself could still keep busy as the reigns were passed over.   
  
“I’ve hardly made an impression for you to change your ways,” Sascha said. “What with you still down there most days.”   
  
“It was you who suggested we help him start off in the first place.”   
  
“And he  _ has _ started off. Very well, I might add.”   
  
Jack smirked, looking at Sascha over the brim of his glasses as he took a long drink from his mug.   
  
“Jealous he’s getting all my time, are we?”   
  
Sascha scoffed. “Don’t be crude.”   
  
“Could say the same to you,” Jack said, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Don’t think that I missed your comment about how good looking our new friend Thomas is yesterday.”   
  
Sascha shrugged, not about to be told off for what he obviously found to be a compliment. “I’m just truthful.”   
  
Jack shook his head again with a ‘tsk’ in the other man’s direction. “Honestly, you need to think before you open your mouth.”   
  
He’d been saying the same thing since they were teenagers, but it still needed repeating constantly.   
  
Now it was Sascha shooting him a look.   
  
“To stay on track with the conversation,” he said, aloof. “Perhaps you should start pulling away. Especially if we’re expecting  _ our friend Thomas _ to join in soon enough, so they can do what they want themselves. Make whatever changes suit them best. They can always  _ ask _ for advice if they need it.”   
  
Jack’s playful smile was back. He wasn’t always a teaser, but Sascha did make it easy.   
  
“You just want me all to yourself.”   
  
“And is that so wrong if I do?” Sascha teased back. 

Well, that was fair enough. He couldn’t deny it.

“No, it’s not,” Jack said, in a voice that could pass for earnestly sweet if he wasn’t just having it on with the man across from him.   
  
He reached out and took Sascha’s hand across the table.   
  
“Just means you’re a tad selfish.”   
  
Sascha rolled his eyes, but Jack knew he could take a joke at his own expense by now, as evidenced by him clasping his hand firmly in return.

* * *

Thomas didn’t get any more rest after Richard had insisted on going back to bed after their row in the morning, but he didn’t get back up either. He was sure Richard’s reasoning was at least partly to avoid facing the matter any further. But even so, he fell back asleep quickly, leaving Thomas to stew in his thoughts.

Of course, he felt terribly guilty about making Richard cross and hurt. He meant to talk about what was on his mind, and clearly Richard’s, in a more civilized manner, truly. But that was just like him, wasn’t it? To attack on sight before getting the full story.

He had thought he was getting better in that regard over the last few years, if he was telling the truth. He saw himself getting softer when he looked back on what he was like when he was younger.

But still, the word Richard had used to describe him earlier fit well.  _ Spikey _ . It was like he wore a barbed piece of armor that would cut anyone before they could get to close. However, the spikes were more dull than they once were, the injuries they caused less severe. Better yet, he learned it was okay to remove that protection from time to time. Because he didn’t try to go into battle everyday.   
  
Baxter would say he used to be at war with the world. That changed when Richard  _ became _ his world.

To bide his time while Richard slept and keep himself composed until he woke up, Thomas turned back to the letters he had found that still sat on the nightstand.

To his surprise, most of them were rather ordinary. Just telling Richard a recount of his day, answers to questions that he couldn’t recall, sharing in gossip from the house that didn’t involve either of them, but was entertaining to look back on regardless.   
  
The only noteworthy event, to him at least, that was recorded was in one letter dated fairly recently where he mentioned Master George leaving for school for the first time. A choice his grandfather openly dreaded, disguised as discontent for the modern way of doing things, but Thomas suspected was really for the same reasons he himself dreaded it.    
  
He didn’t remember being so sappy about it in his writing, but he definitely recalled feeling that way at the time. An odd mixture of pride and sadness for the little boy taking his first steps into the real world.   
  
It was almost like reading journal entries, which was maybe why Richard kept them. He wrote like he spoke usually, unless (and it was painfully obvious) he was trying to sound impressive or more poetic than he actually was. He could hear his own voice in them as he read, and perhaps Richard did, too.

When Richard finally reawakened in the late morning, he seemed to be in better spirits, so Thomas didn’t speak of the incident again. Perhaps they would at a different time if it kept weighing on their minds and they’d both had a chance to cool off from it.

Instead, Thomas had suggested Richard show him the shop, which they had planned doing at some point during his visit anyway.   
  
“Seems only fair I finally get to see where you work after I’ve shown you mine plenty,” he said.   
  
As he’d hoped, Richard lit up at the suggestion, his genuine smile returning as he flashed it to Thomas in the reflection of his bedroom mirror as he finished dressing.   
  
“Well, I should hate to be unfair.”   
  
Thomas smirked back in the mirror. He grabbed Richard’s tie he’d laid out over the footboard, making way to wrap it over his neck.   
  
“I can do it myself, you know,” Richard claimed, but didn’t protest.   
  
“Oh, I’m not so sure, Mr. Ellis,” Thomas said with the same tone of voice he would use if he were speaking to his lordship as he did it up. “You’ve been out of practice for a while. Thought you might’ve forgotten how.”   
  
Richard huffed, but he grinned with it, making it nearly a laugh. “I do still dress myself every morning.”   
  
“Yes, but to tell you the truth, I hate how you make your tie,” Thomas said with a teasing look as he finished his work. “It’s always wrinkled.”   
  
“It is not,” Richard said, turning to survey how it looked in the mirror. “I just put a dimple in it.”   
  
“If that’s what you want to call it.”   
  
Richard turned back around, truly laughing now. He leaned over, giving Thomas a quick kiss on the cheek.   
  
“Thanks, love.”   
  
Thomas may not have always known when Richard was hiding behind carefully chosen words and when he was genuine, but he did know those two were always given earnestly.   
  
The shop had the same air as the rest of the building: small but quaint, and got the job done. That being said, Thomas could only focus on Richard during his entire “tour” of the place.   
  
He seemed to beam as he explained everything. What things were, how they worked, what he did day-to-day.

To Thomas, who admittedly didn’t know much about it all, he seemed to already be a professional to the line of work. Thomas could imagine him greeting customers with the same bright smile he had plastered on his face. He was biased, but that look would be enough for him to come in more than once.   
  
“You look happy here,” he told him, almost absentmindedly as he watched Richard fiddle with the cash register, doing something he said he forgot to do as he closed up the day prior before picking up Thomas from his train.   
  
Richard paused his work, looking at Thomas from across the counter, his eyes bright.   
  
“I am happy here,” he said plainly. “I feel I’ve found my niche.”   
  
He didn’t elaborate on why, but he didn’t have to. Thomas could see it for himself.   
  
The work suited him. Thomas wasn’t sure why he questioned it before. Or rather, he did, but he didn’t think it mattered now. No, Richard wasn’t always a businessman, but he was sharp and witty, and it didn’t shock Thomas to find out he’d taken on the new trade so well.

And besides all that, seeing Richard be a friendly face in the neighborhood from a small grocery store in York actually seemed to fit better than him being a domestic servant to royalty in London. He was more than just a stoic piece of human furniture in someone else’s home. He was kind and generous. Friendly and warm. Had stories to tell and wanted people to share them with.   
  
It made sense.   
  
“Right,” Richard said, bringing Thomas out of the haze of thought he didn’t realize he’d fallen into. “There’s a cafe just down a few blocks that way,” he nodded out the storefront window as he took up his hat.    
  
“What do you say about some lunch?” He took out his watch, checking the time. “It’s a bit late for it, but we haven’t eaten all day.”   
  
But Thomas wasn’t sure he was in the mood for lunch in a cafe down the road.   
  
“Why don’t we stay in instead?” he suggested.    
  
Richard gave him a look.    
  
“Well I’m not as good a cook as the neighbors,” he supplied with a shrug. “About all I can do is sandwiches, potatoes, eggs… that sort.”   
  
“I don’t mind,” Thomas said. “Only I… don’t feel like pretending much today.”   
  
As he said it, he realized it sounded rather sad and pathetic. Like that man at war with the world. When in reality, he just wanted to hear more about the store, and Richard’s crazy but endearing downstairs neighbors, and whatever else was making him as happy as he said he was. Not that they couldn’t talk about it if they were out, but he wouldn’t be able to smile as boldly or take his hand as he told his stories.   
  
“Just want to be with you,” Thomas added with a smile, hoping it got his point across.   
  
Richard seemed to pick it up, smiling back with a nod.    
  
“Wait here.”   
  
He came back around the counter, making way to a shelf in the back and returning with a bottle of wine in hand.   
  
“It’s all we sell,” he said, lifting it up for Thomas to see. “But might as well if we’re staying in tonight.”

* * *

They never made a real meal, for neither lunch nor dinner as they lounged about the flat, snacking as they went. Thomas wouldn’t have liked to do things that way, normally, but it was worth it to get back on the right footing with each other. Talk like they usually did, in their own teasing way.   
  
Richard already had plenty of stories from his time in York, some that Thomas had gotten in his letters, and some new. Either way, it was a pleasure to hear him tell them in person.   
  
On his end, he didn’t have much to say, or wanted to say. Downton felt far away at the moment, and he wanted it to stay there.   
  
“How much do they still help out?” Thomas asked, meaning Jack and Sascha after Richard had mentioned them in one of his anecdotes.   
  
They were seated together against the arm of the living room sofa, Richard leaning into Thomas’ side with his arm around his back.   
  
They’d opened their wine, which would’ve probably been a little too early in the evening if they had plans other than sitting and listening to music play from the wireless in the corner of the room.   
  
“Jack more than Sascha,” Richard supplied. “Though Sascha wanted to get out of it all before we even met, so it’s no surprise.”   
  
He grabbed Thomas’ hand, playing with his fingers where they lay at the side of his thigh.   
  
“You were a good sport to humor us all last night.”   
  
“Wasn’t humoring, I enjoyed it,” Thomas said honestly, turning his palm over so Richard could lace their fingers together. “It’s got to be nice. Having folks like that around.”   
  
“Folks like what?”   
  
“Well, like us, but just as friendly neighbors as well,” Thomas explained. “And they knew your mum, too. I’m glad you’ve got that. Someone to talk with on all fronts.”   
  
“Yeah,” Richard said, relaxing more into Thomas’ arm. “It is nice.”   
  
He took a drink of his wine, then swirled it around in his glass, watching it spin.   
  
“I keep thinking about that, though.”   
  
“About what?”   
  
“I mean…” Richard started, still watching the wine twirl after he stopped twisting it. “She had to have known about them. Mum, I mean. They’re not exactly the most guarded couple like us I’ve ever met.”   
  
Thomas would be a fool if he didn’t know where this was going.   
  
“They are pretty forward,” he said, letting Richard go at his own pace.   
  
“So, she wouldn’t have minded. If she did know,” Richard continued. “They were close, the three of them.”   
  
“Have you ever asked them if they told her, or… she’d figured it out?” Thomas asked quietly, rubbing his thumb across Richard’s hand.   
  
He shook his head. “No. I don’t think I want to know for sure.”   
  
“Why not?”   
  
Richard sighed and took the last mouthful of wine from his glass before leaning forward to put it down on the coffee table, then settling back into Thomas’ side and putting his feet up next to it.   
  
“I don’t know, but I feel stupid now. I could’ve just… told her if so. Long ago. Could’ve told her about you, too. And… I don’t know,” he repeated. “It would’ve been nice to be honest. Share in all the happier bits around it. That’s all.”   
  
He let out a breath.   
  
“Not sure why I fuss over it. It’s all over now. Nothing to be done about it.”   
  
“Because it matters to you,” Thomas said gently. “No shame in that.”   
  
Richard settled further into the couch, leaning his head on Thomas’ shoulder. He was quiet for a moment, seeming to think through what he was going to say next.   
  
“I think you were right about one thing,” he said casually. “I moved on pretty fast. Perhaps too fast. Sometimes it feels like I didn’t give myself proper time to really grieve her.”   
  
Thomas didn’t say anything yet. It felt like something Richard had to work through himself, he was just anchoring himself down to Thomas for support.   
  
“I don’t have any regrets about any of this, but… I still do miss her terribly. And I could have waited a while until that… healed.”   
  
Thomas sighed, placing a kiss to the top of Richard’s head.    
  
“I don’t know if you want to hear it, but you’ll probably always miss her. So it may never heal completely,” he said quietly. “You just have to move forward. And you’re doing that.”   
  
“Yeah,” was all Richard replied to that, and Thomas took that as his end to the conversation. Knowing him though, he’d still be thinking about it for the rest of the night.   
  
He let go of his hand to thread his fingers through Richard’s hair, massaging it gently. A way of letting him know he was still there if need be.   
  
Richard hummed at the touch to encourage Thomas to continue.   
  
“This is nice,” he whispered. “I miss you already.”   
  
“Still here ‘til noon tomorrow.”   
  
“I’ll miss you then, too. Don’t want you to go.”   


The same words were said a dozen or so times before by either one of them at the end of their visits. It was almost like an unspoken tradition. But it had more weight to it this time around as Thomas knew the clock was ticking on their agreed upon ultimatum.   
  
So he didn’t reply, letting Richard rest on him like this for a few minutes more.   
  
Eventually Richard shifted up, grabbing his empty glass from the table and reaching for Thomas’ which had been untouched for some time now.   
  
“You done with this?” he asked, but took it without an answer, already making his way out of the room.   
  
Thomas called out a ‘yes’ after him, but he was already gone.   
  
He would have been content just falling asleep on the couch together, leaving the clean-up for the morning, but clearly Richard had other intentions.    
  
Thomas already missed the weight on top of him. Like Richard said, he’d miss it tomorrow, too.   
  
He never wanted to leave after their meetings, but it was different this time for some reason.    
  
Richard’s home was warm and inviting. Because it was his. Because he was here, and would be for a long time. Perhaps the rest of his life.   
  
Somewhere where they would bicker and fight, but still come and sit on the sofa at the end of the day and apologize and talk and be with each other in a way they couldn’t anywhere else.   


It felt like his home, too, he realized.   
  
_ Oh. _ _  
_ _  
_ It felt like their home.   
  
Thomas rose up from the couch, finding his legs knew what to do better than he did.   
  
God, he was going to say it, wasn’t he.   
  
He lingered in the doorway to the kitchen, watching Richard dry the wine glasses with a tea cloth.   
  
He opened his mouth to speak, almost forgetting he had to make the sound himself.   
  
“Alright.”   
  
Richard flicked his eyes up at him for a split second, but focused back on his task at hand.   
  
“Alright what?”   
  
Thomas stepped forward a few strides, the distance no more than a few feet, but felt like miles.   
  
He took the glass out of Richard’s hand and set it in the sink so he could replace it with his own hand.   
  
“I’m going to do it.”   
  
Richard looked up at him, mouth slightly agape. Thomas saw him swallow, buying a few seconds of time.   
  
“Do what?” he asked, but Thomas knew he already knew what. He just needed to hear it.   
  
“I’m going to hand in my notice,” he replied, finding it hard to speak himself, his voice sounding strained.   
  
Richard squeezed his hand, grounding him to the moment.   
  
“Hand in your notice to do what?” he prompted quietly.   
  
Thomas took a deep breath, continuing on more assured of himself.   
  
“To come here,” he said a bit louder. “To live here. And be with you.”   


Richard reached up with both hands, cupping Thomas’ face between them.   
  
He looked Thomas dead in the eye, and Thomas could tell he was feeling just as frightened as he was. Of being let down, yet again.   
  
“Are you sure?” he asked, just as quiet, searching Thomas’ face as if confirmation were written somewhere on it. “This isn’t the wine talking or - or -”   
  
“No,” Thomas said, peeling one of the hands off his face and holding it to his chest. “No, I’m positive. This is what I’m choosing. I… want us to last. I want us to be… beyond what we are now. I want you to be so happy, Richard.”   
  
“You shouldn’t just do it for me,” Richard whispered, letting go of Thomas’ face completely, only to have him take that hand as well.   
  
“No, it’s for me, too,” Thomas reassured. “It’s for us.”   
  
He found himself smiling as he built himself up, more confident in what he was telling Richard.   
  
“We’re going to do this. Together.”   
  
Richard broke out into a grin, bubbling over with laughter.   
  
“Oh, Thomas.”   
  
He let go of Thomas’ grip only to fling his arms around him, holding him tighter than could be comfortable, but Thomas reciprocated with an arm at his waist and one around his shoulder.  
  
Thomas felt a kiss on his cheek, and he buried his face into the crook of Richard’s neck. He was probably wrinkling his shirt from holding him so tightly, and ruining his collar with the tears that were starting to make themselves known out of the corners of his eyes, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t remember the last time someone hugged him this tightly, if ever.   
  
He drew his face out of its hiding spot to breathe. Steady himself.   
  
“It may take a while to get it all done,” he said, still holding on. “I won’t leave them out to dry.”   
  
He felt Richard readjust his grip to place a hand on the back of his neck.   
  
“I know.”   
  
He took another stuttering breath.   
  
“And it doesn’t mean I’m not still terrified.”   
  
Richard pulled back, still holding Thomas at the waist with one hand, and fixing his hair with the other, combing it back into place with his fingers. His eyes were misty, just as Thomas’ were.   
  
“I know,” he said softly. “But you’re not alone, yeah? We’re a team.”   
  
Thomas smiled, taking another deep breath to collect the rest of himself. “Yeah. We are.”   
  
Richard smiled warmly at him again, chuckling from pure happiness.   
  
His hand landed back on Thomas’ cheek, steadying him as he kissed him properly for the first time in their own home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only took me 8 chapters to get my shit together ayyyyy
> 
> from here on out it's a lot less SufferingTM folks. not sure how many chapters will be left but it's getting there


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas breaks the news.

“Morning.”   
  
A smug smile accompanied Richard’s greeting as Thomas rolled towards the alarm clock on the nightstand. He let out a groan as he noticed the time, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.   
  
“You let me lie in too long,” he said, shifting up to lean back on the headboard.   
  
Richard on the other hand was already looking ready for the day, dressed in everything but a jacket, and cleanly shaved.

  
“Surprised you slept through the alarm,” he said, turning his attention back to his hair as he ran a comb through it in the bedroom mirror, making sure it laid just so. “Figured you could do with the rest though.”   
  
He wasn’t wrong. They found themselves up late the night prior, talking about the logistics of Thomas’ newfound plan of coming to York. Utterly boring on its surface, discussing the prospect of shared finances, potential moving expenses, this, that and the other thing that’ll need to be done before anything’s settled. But Thomas had never seen a man as excited and beaming as Richard as he talked of all his plans and ideas for it all that he had clearly been sitting on for some time.   
  
“Probably just as well though that you’re awake now,” Richard continued. “I’ll have to head down soon.”   
  
Thomas sighed as he pulled the quilt away from him and stretched his legs over the side of the bed.   
  
“I suppose that’s my cue to get a move on then,” he said, still groggy.   
  
“Not if you don’t want,” Richard said, smirking again as Thomas stopped himself from rising out of bed. “Just wanted to give you these before I get going and forget.”   
  
He walked over, setting his comb on the nightstand with one hand and fishing in his pocket with the other, eventually pulling out a keyring and prying it open.    
  
“Here,” he said, sliding three keys of varying lengths off and handing them over one by one. “Backdoor - shop front - and -” Richard’s grin broadened as he held up the final one dramatically before giving it over. “The key to your new flat, Mr. Barrow.”   
  
Thomas held out his hand and Richard laid them in. “Rather convenient you already have these.”   
  
Richard continued to look pleased with himself as he went back to the mirror, making final adjustments to his tie and collar. “They’re only the spares I got when I moved in. We’ll have to get copies made eventually just in case, but you ought to be able to have your own set in the meantime.”   
  
Thomas held up the flat’s key gingerly at eye level, examining it. It felt like it should look more grand in some way. Instead, the thing appeared to be completely ordinary, its luster dulled from years of being in others pockets and turned by previous occupants’ hands.    
  
But the key was anything but regular, really. To him anyway. At this point in time. Someday the grandeur of the thought of unlocking the door to his  _ own _ home -  _ their _ own home - would fade, surely, but right that moment it felt like he achieved some unthinkable feat. If he were to fly to the moon, it would feel like an equal accomplishment. 

There was a lot of weight in something so small. That key was opening doors in more ways than one.   
  
Richard looked over after Thomas had gone quiet again, somewhat expectant of a greater response out of him.   
  
“Penny for your thoughts?” he prodded.   
  
Thomas snapped his gaze over, putting the key back in his palm with the others to hold them tight as he was brought back down to Earth.   
  
He shook his head, almost laughing as a smile crept into his face.   
  
“We’re really doing this, aren’t we?”   
  
Richard snickered, going to the bureau and grabbing his jacket, shrugging it on. “We are. Unless you’ve already gone and got cold feet on me.”   
  
“No, but…” Thomas sputtered. “It is surreal, isn’t it? That in one night, everything’s changed.”   
  
“Hardly  _ everything _ has changed, love,” Richard retorted. “There’s plenty to do before all’s said and done.”   
  
Thomas scoffed, but not in displeasure. “Namely on my end, you mean.”   
  
“Well,” Richard said with a teasing look. “You’re the one that said it.”   
  
Thomas smiled and looked back at the keys in his hand, turning them over.   
  
“I’ll tell them all once I get back today,” he said. “Best to get it over with. Rip the bandage off clean and all that.”   
  
Richard’s look softened, and he made his way to sit down next to Thomas on the bed, putting a comforting hand on the small of his back.   
  
“I don’t mean to make you feel you need to be hasty about it.”   
  
Thomas shook his head, giving Richard a reassuring smile. 

“No, it’s best to get it over and done. They’ll have to know sooner or later. Phyllis will probably read it on my face before I say anything. There’s no point in waiting around,” he said. “I think I’ve kept you doing that long enough.”   
  
“I can be patient if you want me to be.”   
  
Thomas let out a laugh at that. “That’s the biggest lie that’s ever come out of your mouth.”   
  
Richard laughed in good humor, even at his expense.

“I mean it, though,” Thomas continued. “The sooner I get the ball rolling, the sooner I’ll likely get out. Who knows how long it may take to get things settled on that end.”

Richard pulled his hand away from Thomas’s back, only to thread his fingers into Thomas’s hand that sat in his lap.

“Don’t think I mind otherwise,” he said, with a tone that read  _ don’t jump on me for what I’m about to say. _ “But you know you don’t have to stay on for all that. You’re free to just work out a notice and be on your way. You owe nothing more than that.”

Thomas did know that, but -   
  
“Nothing wrong with leaving on good terms,” he said. “You’re right, I don’t owe it, but… it hardly feels fair knowing it’d make more work for the rest of them. Everyone’s got more on their plate now. Lord knows I wouldn’t exactly be pleased if someone else ran off like a thief in the night, leaving the rest of us to deal with it.”   
  
“I’m sure that’s hardly what anyone would think after you’ve given warning,” Richard nearly scolded. Thomas knew it was never the intention, but the man was always a touch patronizing when it came to disagreements.

“Yeah, well,” he said, focusing his attention on their hands together. To Richard’s credit, others may not think  _ that _ , but he was still sure no one other than Phyllis would exactly be pleased for him once they learned the reason for his departure, even with certain details left out. Indifferent, that was most likely, but not pleased.   
  
“Like I said, doesn’t hurt.”

Richard gave him a smile that was somewhere between fond and pitiful. “I just hope the Crawleys know they don’t deserve you.”   
  
He pressed a kiss to Thomas’s forehead as he stood.

“I really do need to get going. Come down when you’re ready. We’ll say a proper goodbye there before you go,” he said, buttoning his jacket, his voice lighter. It wasn’t the time and place to bicker about something that was already settled, and Thomas was silently thanking him for dropping it. “And if you don’t mind, lock up when you head out.”   
  
With a wink, he was out the door.  


* * *

He was right, Baxter sensed something was up before he even said so much as hello.   
  
“You’re in a chipper mood today, Mr. Barrow,” she called out as he passed the boot room. She didn’t even have to look up from her polishing.   
  
He backtracked, popping into the doorway. “Am I, Ms. Baxter?”   
  
She gave him a quick glance with a knowing smirk. “You’ve looked brighter since you got back, that’s all.”   
  
He’d only gotten back an hour before. She was an observant one, when she wanted to be.   
  
“York was good then?” Baxter added, the question cleverly disguised so no one else who may pass by would think anything of it.   
  
“It was.”   
  
“Might I know why?”   
  
He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.   
  
“You just might.” Thomas smiled, but it felt a bit ironic. When he last talked to Baxter, it was all about worry and uncertainty. She might’ve been expecting gloom and doom upon his return.

Not that some of the worry didn’t linger, but he was yet to come down from the high of it all.

She finally set down the heeled shoe she was working on and met his eyes and looked at him with a quirked eyebrow.   
  
“So you’ve told him -”   
  
“Yes,” he interrupted, beating her to the punch. “Haven’t made it official upstairs yet, but yes. I’ll be going.”   
  
Baxter’s smirk grew into a beaming smile as she reached across the workbench to take his hand.   
  
“Oh Thomas, I am glad,” she said. “Very, very glad. For both of you. You’ve no idea.”   
  
Thomas couldn’t help but find himself matching her expression, grinning without being forced. In truth, he felt more jovial the last two days than he had in a long time.   
  
“Is it conceited to say I’m glad for us, too?” he said, almost laughing at himself.

“No, goodness, not at all,” Baxter reassured, giggling back. “You deserve a good turn. To be honest, I’d been worried. You seemed so glum as of late, I was almost sure…”   
  
She dropped the end of the sentence, looking embarrassed for assuming the worst.

Thomas couldn’t blame her though. Hell, he had started to do the same just a few days ago. He knew he and Richard were alright deep down, but it didn’t stop his mind from wandering.    
  
When Richard spoke about forgetting what it all felt like to be together when the times they could meet were so few and far between, something clicked. When it was put into words, Thomas could understand the despair and the pain behind the rash decisions and desire to make something more, and he told him so when apologies were said later that evening.   
  
Even so, he wondered what Richard would have done if he did turn him down. Where it would’ve left them. Thankfully, it didn’t all matter much now, and curiosity killed the cat, so he didn’t dare ask.   
  
“Well,” he said, giving Baxter a smaller smile to show no harm was done. “Things… became clearer while I was away.”   
  
She smiled back, giving his hand a squeeze before turning back to the shoes.   
  
“Do you know when you’ll go?”   
  
He sighed. “Well, that’s to be determined yet. I’ll tell his lordship as soon as the opportunity presents itself.”   
  
“Well, I shouldn’t dawdle, or Mr. Ellis may think you’ve gone back on your word,” Baxter teased. “But it will be sad here without you. You’ll have to promise to let me and Joseph come visit.”   
  
There was a prospect he didn’t consider. Of course, he would want to keep in touch, but for her to be a visitor to his own home...    
  
It was different because they still worked together, possibly, but he never even popped into her own cottage in the village. Now suddenly he felt guilty for not.   
  
“Would you want to?”   
  
Baxter looked up at him, beaming again. “Of course we would. I’ll want to see how you’re getting on. And it would be nice to get away from here every now and again. And if you ever need a getaway yourselves, our door’s always open.”   
  
Well, why shouldn’t she be like all the rest of happily married women in that regard? Wanting to show off the life she had built for herself. To have friends she could visit, and they in return.    
  
And she always was fond, even when he tried to sway her otherwise when she first came to Downton. It took Thomas longer than it should have to realize how lucky he was to have someone willing to be just that.   
  
“I think we’d enjoy that,” he told her honestly, feeling rather fond himself.   
  
It was a lovely thing in the end, to have a person that made leaving bitter, but to have another waiting on the other end that made it sweet.   
  
“I will miss you, you know,” he added after a moment, soft.   
  
Baxter started to respond, but closed her mouth and looked back to her work, smiling to herself.   
  
“Well, you’re not gone yet,” she said. “I’ve talked your ear off, they’re probably looking for you somewhere.”  
  
It wasn’t long after that someone was looking for him, and that opportunity to make everything official presented itself.  


* * *

“I can’t believe it!”   
  
Mama looked up at Papa with wide eyes after he dropped the bomb. He’d come down all a fluster for dinner, exclaiming that they’d  _ never guess what Barrow had just told him _ . When no one did guess, he told them that in return for handing over a shirt that needed a seam mended, Barrow handed in his notice, saying he found a new position in a shop a friend of his in York was running.   
  
“Well, I can,” Mary said, glancing between them, her eyebrows raised. It wasn’t a shock to her.   
  
After what was revealed to her earlier in the year about Barrow’s more frequent comings and goings, she was frankly surprised he hadn’t just up and left already if he was so eager to be away from the house. Not that she could blame him exactly, but she and the rest of them would be lying if they said they weren’t banking on Barrow to be in it for the long haul, all things considered.   
  
“Why? Has he said something to you?” Papa asked, teetering on being accusatory.   
  
“No, but.” Mary straightened her posture from where she sat, in the same way a cat might arch its back to look bigger when it’s frightened. “He’s hardly the first member of the staff to leave as of late. Frankly, we’ve been lucky to hold onto him for this long, or any of the old guard. I wouldn’t be surprised if Baxter or Mrs. Patmore followed suit in near future.”   
  
“Let’s not give them any ideas,” Mama said with a scolding look.   
  
“They’ve probably already gotten the idea,” she sniped back. “And why shouldn’t they?”   
  
“Even so,” Papa butted in, raising his voice to put a stopper in the argument before anything could be made of it. “I wouldn’t have guessed Barrow to be the one most keen to leave, not after how that went last time.”

The end of the sentence was nearly muttered under his breath. It wasn’t something discussed often, if at all. That… ordeal was more or less dealt with years ago now. However, Mary did wonder if the poor man had been rushed back into the swing of things too quickly. Up until he did leave for that new (and ultimately, temporary) position, his eyes still looked too sunken, and every movement he made appeared painful. She had touched on her concerns to Carson, but had been assured all was right and fine. Now, regrettably, she’d left it at that.   
  
“What’s this?” Henry chimed, innocently curious to hear what he probably assumed was no more than downstairs gossip.   
  
Mama and Papa floundered, and looked at each other expectantly and quizzically, as if to test each other to say what was really mixed into that water under the bridge.   
  
“Well… it wasn’t anything -”   
  
“Papa was looking to downsize the staff some years back,” she interrupted Mama. “At the time, Barrow was under butler, and it appeared to be the obvious choice if we were to let anyone go, but he… made himself gravely ill at the prospect of getting sacked.”   
  
“Well, understandably so,” Henry said. “He’s worked here for some time, hasn’t he?”   
  
“He has,” Papa said with a huff. “Which is why he was offered his position back, when old Carson left. It was all very tidy. He seemed more than pleased… which is why I’m puzzled as to why he’d chose to find employment elsewhere now.”   
  
“I can imagine it’s different when you’re leaving on your own accord as opposed to getting the boot,” Mary said with an eyeroll. “I don’t see why we need to be so hung up about it, if he’s decided.”   
  
“But without so much as a warning?” Papa retorted. “It would have been nice to know he was at least  _ looking _ . I don’t appreciate being blindsided.”   
  
If this “friend in York” was the same friend Anna spoke of (and if Mary was a betting woman she would like her odds), she guessed there was likely a good reason for being so secretive on his search.   
  
“Do you think it’ll be difficult to find a replacement?” Mama asked. “How long has Barrow given for his notice?”   
  
“Well, there’s the silver lining,” Papa replied. “He’s offered to stay until a decision is made, but I’m not sure how many qualified folks are looking for a service position these days.”   
  
“Oh, that’s kind,” Henry said.   
  
“It is,” Mary said, shooting her father a look. “I hope you made it known that it’s not expected of him.”   
  
“He was adamant,” Papa said with a shrug. “I’ll give credit where credit is due there. He’s come to be quite a man of principle.”   
  
Guiltily, Mary was glad of it. As much as he deserved to make a life away from the abbey if that’s what he truly wanted, she wasn’t too proud to admit he’d be missed. He was an absolute dream when it came to the children, doting more on them than any of the nannies who had come and gone. When Caroline came along, he took to her just as quickly as he had with George (or Sybbie or Marigold for that matter, though neither resided in the house anymore).   
And, she wouldn’t mind some assistance in the meantime…   
  
As if on cue, the library door clicked open, with the man of the hour standing beside it.   
  


* * *

  
  
It was still unnerving to be cornered by Lady Mary, for as often as she did it. Thomas wanted to believe that she didn’t mean to have such a threatening approach, it was just the way she held herself, and the way her face rested didn’t help.   
  
Nevertheless it made his heart skip a beat when she asked if she could have a word after dinner, when the rest had gone through. Turned out that his lordship had already broken the news, and honestly, he counted himself lucky for having that work done for him.   
  
“I plan to stay on as long as I’m still needed, m’lady,” he assured. “This new position, it’s flexible. There’s no rush.”   
  
“So I’ve been told,” she said, forcing a smile as she took a pause, looking away and focusing on a random spot on the dining table beside them. “I only mean to ask…”   
  
She trailed off, uncharacteristically fiddling with her hands and suddenly looking rather awkward.   
  
Thomas wished she’d get on with it, whatever it was she meant to say. His work wasn’t done for the night, and whatever the question was it couldn’t be as painful as standing silently as he waited for her ladyship to get her wits about her.

“Do you remember I asked you once Barrow to… have some candor with me?” she finally sputtered out. Not exactly a direct question.   
  
“I might,” he said carefully. “Though, if I may say, m’lady, I’m not sure what you quite mean by that now.”   
  
She met his gaze again, her smile unwavering, but still ringing her hands.    
  
“I suppose it may be best to just come out with it,” she said, almost laughing nervously. “We spoke a while ago of a man you’d been… seeing. During your time away…”   
  
And there it was.   
  
“M’lady,” he started quickly, coming to his own defense for a crime he was guilty of. “I don’t mean to be impertinent, but it’s truly not something of your concern -”   
  
“No, please,” she interrupted just as quickly, finally stopping her fidgeting and raising her hands. “Don’t think I mean to cause trouble, I only - I’d just rather know if what I’m thinking is true. Because, if he is… involved in this decision… I want you to know I’m more than willing to help make the transition any easier. If I can.”   
  
He snapped his own jaw shut, as the words sank in. It had been months now since the matter of it all was first brought up, and frankly he was hoping that would be all that became of it. She wasn’t unkind, of course, but it still didn’t strike him as wise to keep his employer informed about his private life. Even if his personal matters weren’t something that would bring scandal upon the house and family, Lady Mary wouldn’t exactly be someone he was looking to confide in.    
  
So now, why she would offer to even get involved was beyond him.   
  
“Well, I -” he stammered, trying to find some response as she stood there expectantly. “That is, I’m not sure what you could do m’lady. It’s all very… tidy, to put it delicately. Or, it will be, rather.”   
  
He figured it would be, with all those plans Richard already had up his sleeve. The whole situation was as new as could be, and it was just now dawning on him how much he hadn’t had much of a chance to dwell on it himself.    
  
He should have been berating himself for being just as rash to make everything final as Richard had been to start the whole thing up.    
  
“I don’t doubt it,” Lady Mary reassured. “And, I understand if you want to keep things… private. Only, if something were to… come up and cause… God knows what, or someone  _ does _ want to cause trouble… you might be wanting some assistance. Just know that I could help. I’d want to help.”   
  
She punctuated her statement with a nod and finally let her hands rest at her side. She looked satisfied, saying her part. Playing the role of a friend in a high place.   
  
Thomas wasn’t sure if he felt more comforted or indebted for it.   
  
“Well,” he said, now feeling awkward himself. “I don’t think it will come to that, but… thank you m’lady.”   
  
“It’s a rather pitiful parting gift for someone who’s served us well for so long,” she said with a sigh, her eyes wandering off to somewhere in the middle distance again in thought. “Master George will certainly miss you.”   
  
She gave him a small smile, that he found much easier to return than anything else in the conversation.    
  
“The feeling is mutual, m’lady.”   
  
Out of everything he’d been handed at Downton, he counted his blessings most with the lad, and the rest of the children that had called the abbey home at one point. It would have been easy for anyone to see something wrong with him taking a shine to Master George, taking extra measures to make sure their paths crossed as infrequently as possible. Instead, he found it to be quite the opposite.   
  
Thomas could admit he was biased, but as spoiled as he was at times, George had a good heart, and was a bright, kind young thing. And it was good for both of them, to find that kinship in each other. It made them both softer, happier.   
  
“I’m sure he’d appreciate it if you were able to stay through the holidays,” Lady Mary continued. “Get to say a goodbye in person.”   
  
And God, wouldn’t Thomas appreciate that, too… but -   
  
“We’ll have to see how it all plays out, I suppose.”   
  
“Of course,” Lady Mary said with a crestfallen smile.   
  
She didn’t say anymore, but she didn’t dismiss him either. Just continued to stand, looking pensive. Her mind lost elsewhere.   
  
After a moment too long, Thomas started. “If that’ll be all, m’lady…”   
  
“Yes, yes of course, I apologize for keeping you,” she said, shaking herself back into reality.   
  
Thomas turned, to finally signal Eugene to come back and help clear everything away, only to be called upon again.    
  
“Did you know when you were very young, Barrow?”   
  
_ What? _   
  
“What?”   
  
He whipped back around, her ladyship once again looking anxious.   
  
Surely it wasn’t what she meant…   
  
“I’m sorry,” she said, suddenly flustered. “I know I shouldn’t pry in something so personal. It’s only - sometimes George, he… says things and I’m sure it’s all in my head but I wonder.”   
  
Thomas could only stare back at her, his mind blank on what  _ things _ she could possibly mean, but not what she was implying.   
  
“I’m sorry?” he finally managed. What the hell was he supposed to say otherwise?   
  
“Just -” she started again. “Did you know when you were that young? About how you… felt?”   
  
They stood like that for several moments, feeling like forever, but the ticking of a nearby clock only counted a handful of seconds.   
  
“I’m sorry -” she said again, looking away. “Just forget I even -”   
  
“I’m not sure.”   
  
Their eyes met again at his interruption. He wasn’t sure why he was telling her, she didn’t have a right to know or even ask such a thing. But she looked frazzled, and scared, worried.    
  
Maybe this was the true reason she wanted a word. It just took her a while to find her way there.   
  
“I’m sorry, but I - I’m not sure,” Thomas said truthfully. “I’ve never thought about it much.”   
  
He  _ was _ honest. It wasn’t something he’d ever considered as something he needed to figure out. Maybe some people did want to pinpoint that sort of thing. When the realization hit.   
  
He could say when he found out the proper words for it. And some words that were improper for it. But he knew before then. He’d done things before then. But that wasn’t the same thing was it.   
  
Lady Mary clasped her hands together, once again twiddling her fingers. He sighed and nodded, looking like she was trying to find a way to continue herself.   
  
“I’m sure you think it’s rather a silly thing,” she settled on, laughing nervously. “To be worried about something like that in a child.”   
  
On the contrary, Thomas didn’t find it silly at all. It wasn’t a bad thing to care. When her heart was in the right place. When she wasn’t looking to make trouble, like she’d said.   
  
He couldn’t say if she was right. He hadn’t suspected anything himself, but of course that didn’t mean much. The kid might not even know himself, and if he did, there likely wasn’t much he understood about it all.   
  
And he couldn’t blame Lady Mary for worrying when he worried about himself and the man he loved daily.   
  
“There are worse things for a mother to be,” he said softly. He would know.   
  
Perhaps he should be offended, to be asked something like this off the cuff, but he couldn’t find it as she shot him a watery, apologetic smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi im back

**Author's Note:**

> I’m really bad at updating this! And I just reread it for the first time in a while and there’s a lot of parts I ~don’t like anymore~ so will I do some rewrites? Just soldier on? Give it up? Whom knows stay tuned I suppose


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